Oasis in the Games
by simplypurple207
Summary: Correction: This is the cave scene through who-knows-how-much-further of the hunger games trilogy through the eyes of everyone's favorite Peeta Mellark! Rated K-plus because it's the Games.
1. Chapter 1

So this is my first fanfiction, and after reading some others I'm realizing that mine pales incredibly in comparison. But I worked for a while on it (more chapters coming) and I figured I might as well put it up here. I'm also still figuring out fanfiction, so if you have any suggestions, send me a message or put something in a review! Thanks! -simplypurple207

My last hopes are beginning to die. My eyes have been closed; I know I've camouflaged myself well. I'm ready to let go. At least it will be easy. No stabbing, no shooting. Now I only hope. Hope she'll win. Hope she'll live. I'm remembering the exact pitch of her voice when I hear something.

"Peeta! Peeta!"

Did I make that up? I must have. Just thinking about her voice, the way she used to say my name, maybe combined with the fact that I'm dying is enough to make up things without even knowing it. But what if it's real? My eyes open. To my astonishment, she is feet away from me. So close. She doesn't see me. I close them again.

"You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" My voice cracks from lack of use. I hear her whip around, looking for me.

"Peeta? Where are you?" I can't believe she's here. I thought I would never hear her voice again. So perfect, like the mockingjays that love her so much. "Peeta?" She inches towards me.

"Well, don't step on me." I hear her flinch and retreat. My eyes open, and I hear her catch her breath. I laugh for the first time in what feels like an eternity. I guess I wasn't wrong about the camouflaging.

"Close your eyes again," she tells me. I do, as well as my mouth. I feel her weight shift; I assume she's on her knees next to me. "I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off."

I smile again. Only she could pull one out of me now. "Yes, frosting. The final defense of dying."

"You're not going to die," she informs me knowingly. Of course I will. I'm beyond repair.

"Says who?" I choke out. She winces at the sound of my voice.

"Says me. We're on the same team now, you know." I open my eyes at this.

"So I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me." My throat is so dry that I can barely talk. But I'm with her, and I feel like I can do anything.

"Did Cato cut you?" She gives me water. I'm glad to know she was never without it.

"Left leg. Up high." How strange it is to not have a throat coated in what feels like sawdust.

"Let's get you in the stream, wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you've got." Well, I guess it's now or never. I speak up.

"Lean down a minute first. Need to tell you something." She tosses her braid over her shoulder and puts her ear just above me. I whisper into it, "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

She pulls back immediately and begins to laugh. I wonder if she thought I would have kissed her then. If she'd stayed down, I probably would have. Just once.

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," she says smiling.

When she tries to get me into the stream, she realizes how much she underestimated Cato. I can't move at all on my own, I've sat idle for days. She tries to pull me over to the water, and I just attempt to let my body go limp and ignore the pain everywhere as she frees me from the mud that's hardened around me. I moan despite my efforts not to, and I can feel the tears fight their way out as I feel like I'm being ripped in half. After what seems like eternity, all that's accomplished is freedom from the mud. I'm still a good way away from the water, and somehow I don't think she plans on carrying me in.

"Look, Peeta, I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, okay?" she tells me.

"Excellent," I reply, even though it's not. She'll realize soon enough that won't work.

"On three," she says determinedly. "One, two, three!" She attempts to roll me into it, but it hurts even more than escaping the mud. I can only stifle the screams I feel ripping out of my chest, and she stops. At least we're really close to the stream now.

"Okay, change of plans." Thank goodness. "I'm not going to pull you all the way in."

"No more rolling?" I ask hopefully.

"That's all done. Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, okay?" I nod as she sets up with two water bottles filling and another to use. It takes a while, but she somehow manages to rinse the mud and grime from my body so that my clothes eventually begin to make a reappearance. She gently unzips my jacket and gets it off along with my shirt, then starts cutting away at my undershirt and pouring more water on it to reach the wounds. To my surprise, she doesn't look too upset about the burn, tracker jacker stings, and bruises. I had thought they, along with my cut, would kill me, but I guess having a healer for a mother helps a lot.

I lose focus for what she's doing and begin to just notice her. Her face, which I thought I would never see again, that I hoped I wouldn't see in the night sky. Her hair, the exact same color that I remembered it, pulled back carelessly into a braid that's tossed over her shoulder. Her voice, the same pitch that I knew and replayed in my head when I thought I was dying, wishing it could be the last thing I heard. I watch her as she rubs remedies on me, wince when she yanks the stingers out, but the truth is, I couldn't be happier right now. I watch her dig through a backpack and pull out a first aid kit. Huh. I hadn't thought any of my injuries were simple enough that a first aid kit could take care of them.

"Swallow these," she instructs me, handing me pills, and I do. I wonder what they're for, but it doesn't really matter to me. Maybe they'll numb any pain. "You must be hungry."

"Not really. It's funny, I haven't been hungry for days." It's true, but I guess a bit of a blessing seeing as I couldn't have escaped the mud if I had wanted to. She pulls out something that looks a little bit like chicken and holds it out to me. I stare at it, disgusted. There's nothing right now that I want less than food. Except maybe Cato.

"Peeta, we need to get some food in you!" Katniss tells me. I don't see why it's such a big deal, though. Right before I painted myself into the ground, I tried to eat a root I remember learning about in the training center just because I thought I should eat something. It came right back up, and I expect no improvement since then, and I tell her so. But of course, being Katniss, she's too stubborn, and I figure that since she's helped me so much already, I might as well gnaw on something. The dried apple tastes alright, I guess, but I don't think anything would taste good at this point.

"Thanks. I'm much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?" That's really all I want. To fall asleep and know she's as safe as she can be in here, and know that when I wake up she'll be the first thing I see.

"Soon," she tells me. "I need to look at your leg first."

I try to zone out again like I did before, just focus on her, but this time it's harder. My leg got the worst of any part of me, and I really just want to sleep, maybe wake up and find that Haymitch sent us something for it.

"Pretty awful, huh?" I ask. I can tell she doesn't like having to heal this. It's not like a burn, where she can rub in some cream and let it heal. This is probably something that she's never really had to deal with.

"So-so," she says, trying to make it seem like it won't be that difficult, but I can tell she doesn't want to be the one responsible for it. "You should see some of the people they bring my mother from the mines. First thing is to clean it well."

After working a bit more around the gash, it becomes evident that she can't put it off any longer. "Why don't we give it some air and then…"

"And then you'll patch it up?" I add. I know this isn't easy for her, and I wish I could help, but she's more familiar with all of this than I am.

"That's right. In the meantime, you eat these," she tells me as she presses some dried pears into my hand, even though I don't have any intention of eating them. I watch her back at the stream, rinsing off my clothes, going through the first aid kit. She seems to determine that there is nothing of use in it and replaces it in the backpack.

"We're going to have to experiment some," she tells me when she gets back. Which I assume is her way of saying that she has no earthly idea how to handle this, but it can't get much worse.

When she rubs in the leaves that soothed the burns earlier, pus appears immediately and begins to ooze out. Her face starts to pale and slowly turns slightly green, and I start hoping she has a tough stomach. "Katniss?" She swallows and looks at me. I mouth, "How about that kiss?" She loses it, doubled over because she's laughing so hard. Well, at least I'm not afraid of her losing her breakfast on me anymore. "Something wrong?"

She struggles with her words for a minute. "I…I'm no good at this," she gets out. No good at what? She doesn't realize what she's done for me. She doesn't realize she kept me living, physically and mentally, not only now but even when she didn't know my name. When I was only who she thought of as the boy with the bread. "I'm not my mother. I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus!" she moans as it seeps out.

"How do you hunt?" I ask incredulously. I don't know how she could ever stand to take the life from something but not see some pus. After all, her mother is a healer, even if Katniss doesn't help her.

"Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this," she tells me earnestly, but I don't believe it. "Although, for all I know, I could be killing you."

"Can you speed it up a little?"

"No. Shut up and eat your pears."

Katniss slowly becomes more comfortable with the pus as she drains my leg of it. I can tell she still doesn't like it, but she knows how to handle it now. The swelling has gone down and now that she can see how deep the wound is, her stress is completely evident.

"What next, Dr. Everdeen?" I inquire.

"Maybe I'll put some burn ointment on it. I think it helps with the infection anyway. And wrap it up?" As far as the pain goes, it's the same as always, where it's almost numb and I can't really feel it. I'm not sure if this is a good sign, but we both feel a little bit better seeing it wrapped up tightly in a bandage.

"Here, cover yourself with this and I'll wash your shorts," she tells me, handing me a backpack.

"Oh, I don't care if you see me," I reply dismissively. After all, the entire nation will, since we're sure to be on film right now. What does it matter if she sees me?

"You're just like the rest of my family," Katniss sighs. "I care, all right?" She turns around defiantly, and I take off my shorts and throw them into the stream for her. I watch her carefully as she washes them.

"You know, you're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person," I let her know. "I wish I let you give Haymitch a shower after all."

She shudders a little bit. "What's he sent you so far?"

"Not a thing," I tell her. I'm not surprised. Then it hits me. "Why, did you get something?"

"Burn medicine," she says, still turned away. "Oh, and some bread."

"I always knew you were his favorite," I mutter, even though I can't blame him.

"Please, he can't stand being in the same room with me!" Katniss persists.

"Because you're just alike," I point out. I can see that she's biting back a response, but says nothing.

We don't say anything for a while, and eventually my eyelids get incredibly heavy. As much as I wanted to sleep before, now I'm afraid I'll wake up and she'll be gone. The last thing I see is her toss her braid over her shoulder, something that defines her, but might mean nothing to someone else.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up to her gently shaking me and saying my name. "Peeta, we've got to go now."

"Go? Go where?"

"Away from here. Downstream, maybe. Somewhere we can hide until you get stronger," she explains, helping me get dressed. I slowly get up, but my leg suddenly throbs and I feel like I'm going to keel over. "Come on. You can do this."

I wish it could just be that easy. I lean on her shoulder, limping and wincing as we make our way down the stream, but we both realize that I'd sooner fly than keep going for long. Everything begins to go black, and I've almost lost consciousness when she stops us. She gently sits me down, puts my head between my knees and pats my back. I breathe heavily, trying regain total consciousness, and I'm not sure how much longer it is until I stand shakily. I can barely walk, and I'm scared that I'm putting too much weight on her as she guides me to what looks like a small cave. I start shaking uncontrollably, leaning on her so that she's nearly carrying me. I'm blacking out for seconds at a time, resurfacing enough only to take a few steps. I black out at one point and find myself into a sleeping bag and a very determined looking Katniss kneeling beside me with water and pills. I swallow them reluctantly, letting her think that she's won, but I don't eat any of the fruit she tries to give me. I can't chew anything, especially not dried fruit. She sighs and gets up, grabbing some vines and trying to make something that will disguise the cave from the outside. I watch her for a while, still in shock that I'm here, that we're both alive. She finally groans and rips what she had down what she had finished.

"Katniss?" I croak out. She doesn't turn. I swallow and try to be louder. "Katniss." She hurries over, kneeling again, brushing my hair back from my face. "Thanks for finding me."

"You would have found me if you could," she says simply. She keeps pushing my hair back and suddenly looks worried. I know what she's thinking, and I agree; I won't make it out.

"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back-"

"Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing," she tells me, trying to convince herself.

"I know, but just in case I don't-" I try to get out, but she cuts me off again.

"No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it," she sighs as she puts a finger on my lips.

"But I-" I begin again, trying to tell her that I want her to be prepared, that I want her to make it out. She doesn't let me finish. She's kissing me.

She breaks away too soon. I blink a few times, staring up at her in disbelief. I had imagined that happening in so many ways, never like that. I had thought of giving her bread as I had so many years ago, and suddenly finding that she was kissing me, telling me that she had loved me since we were children. Delly Cartwright once suggested that I just walk up to her and kiss her, but I told her that she must be joking. But I'd never thought that here, in the hunger games, where we would both die, was where we would connect.

Katniss breaks into my thoughts, saying "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?"

"All right," I reply, a slight smile playing at the edge of my lips.

I watch her as she steps out of the cave, turning just out of my view long enough for me to black out again. I wake up to her kissing me again, and though I've never been so mad at myself for losing consciousness, I'm glad she had an excuse to kiss me. She's holding a silver parachute in one hand and small pot of something that smells suspiciously like food in the other. She motions towards the pot. "Peeta, look what Haymitch has sent you!" _Yay._ I think, sighing inwardly. _More food for her to try to make me eat._

Katniss can tell how unenthusiastic I am, and at first tries to intimidate me, along with a bit of pleading and ineffective charming. Finally she kisses me again, and I respond. Maybe she'll take it as a hint that that's the only way I'll take it.

Soon, the pot is empty and I feel myself drifting off. I dream for the first time since I've been in the Games. I'm back in District 12, walking out of what's left of my house, which is really nothing but what looks like it might have been the oven, and I'm walking slowly to Katniss' end of the Seam. It's a ghost town, everyone is gone, everything is rubble, ash. Katniss suddenly comes around the corner, headed straight towards the ruins of the bakery, her face screwed up in pain, mental pain, as if she's lost everything. "Katniss!" I walk up to her, meaning to wrap my arms around her, to comfort her. She walks right past me. "Katniss?" It's like she doesn't see me. She walks on, stopping in front of the bakery, staring up at it, contemplating something. She shakes her head, moaning, and backs up quickly until suddenly her knees are knocked out from under her by a huge metal mass. She sits on it a moment, catching her breath, and she realizes what it was, though I don't recognize it. Something seems to hit her, she gasps slightly, and squeezes her eyes shut, trembling. "Katniss, it's okay…" I sit down next to her, my arm around her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

And suddenly she is gone, she's taken off running, the tears that I'm not even sure that she's aware of flying down her cheeks. I sit, stunned, on the metal. Was she running from me? She acted like she couldn't see me, she acted like District 12 had been demolished, that everyone had died. I sit on the unidentifiable hunk of metal for what seems like a very long time and a very short time. Out of nowhere, I hear something overhead, and I look up. It's a helicopter, I realize, but it looks different from those in the Capitol. I watch it, emotionless, until I realize that it's headed to where Katniss ran.

"Katniss?" I stand up, my breath coming in short gasps. It's then that I see a small figure frozen on the ladder that descended from the helicopter, a small figure with dark braided hair. "Katniss!"

I lose the concept of time, I don't know if its hours or seconds that I see the ladder rising slowly, taking the one person that I would gladly give my life for with it. "_Katniss!_" I scream, and I start running towards it. It doesn't occur to me that of course I'll never catch up to it, of course I won't be able to keep up with it, get in it, save her. My feet pound against the ground, beating out a rhythm for me. I keep running, I keep myself going for her. _I can save her! I CAN!_ I tell myself, because the concept of losing her to whoever is in that helicopter is enough to make me move even faster. "Katniss! Katniss!" I shout until the word is burned into my brain, and I'm still running.

I'm held up as I run, I feel like something's been wrapped around me, I can hardly jog. "Katniss…" I sob as I trip on something invisible and fall into the dirt. Rocks and ash are caught in my tangled hair as I twist violently, trying to get up, but it's useless. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I watch the helicopter take away the only person I've ever loved.

I wake up writhing in the sleeping bag, panting and shaking. "Katniss?" I say again. There's no answer. I struggle to get up, searching around the cave. She's gone.

No, no I can't lose her! Not again, not after I just woke up and realized that she was really still here!

I don't process the fact that Cato cut my leg to shreds, I forget all about everything but Katniss. Just as I'm about to rip the sleeping bag off of me and start running for her again, she walks in. Just like that. I breathe out a sigh of relief. "I woke up and you were gone! I was worried about you," I tell her, conveniently leaving out my dream of losing her.

To my shock, she laughs as she walks over to me, running her fingers through my hair and helping me back into the tangled mess of a sleeping bag. "You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?" _Yes, actually, I'm in a cave that no one else knows about. You, however, left, and being out in the open with Cato and Clove is more dangerous than you know. _I bite my tongue, and simply say, "I thought Cato and Clove might have found you. They like to hunt at night."

"Clove? Which one is that?"

"The girl from District Two. She's still alive, isn't she?" I've never hoped for the loss of someone's life, but now, I want Katniss to tell me that someone got rid of Clove.

"Yes, there's just them and us and Thresh and Foxface." I must look confused because she hastily says "That's what I nicknamed the girl from Five. How do you feel?"

I'm still upset that for a moment, I thought she was gone, but I decide to let it go. There's nothing I can do now. "Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud," I tell her, shuddering at the thought of being locked in the hardened earth for who knows how much longer. "Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag…and you." I add, because I can't stand it anymore. I'm so glad that she's alright, and she's here with me.

She blushes slightly, though it looks a little off, and reaches out tenderly to my cheek. I take her hand, kissing it gently, as I stare up into her eyes, the color of the sky just after a storm. She pulls her hand back, smiling timidly, and lets out a short breath, as if she's breathless. "No more kisses for you until you've eaten," Katniss tells me playfully, and helps me sit up.

Soon I'm sitting with my back against the wall of the cave, swallowing something identifiable, but I don't really care anymore. I refuse the meat again (which she calls groosling), eating only the mush that she has.

I notice the dark circles under her eyes and something clicks in my head. "You didn't sleep."

"I'm all right," she replies, stifling a yawn.

"Sleep now. I'll keep watch," I tell her. "I'll wake if you anything happens."

She looks reluctant, but I can tell that she's about to drop anyway. I say, "Katniss, you can't stay up forever," and I can tell that I've won her over.

"All right, but just for a few hours. Then you wake me." Like I would take her out of the little bliss that we have in the Games unless we were in danger.

She smoothes out the sleeping bag and curls up on it, one hand on her bow. I move over so that I'm just next to her and lay my leg flat in front of me. "Go to sleep," I whisper, brushing her hair behind her ear, and I feel her relax, her breathing slow as she drifts off.

I stroke her hair long after she's fallen asleep, and I notice that the look on her face is completely unfamiliar. It's because she's calm, she's not worried. Even when I saw her at home, she always had a scowl on her face, she was always concerned that she couldn't feed her family. Now, in the Games, she could die, and I can't blame her for scowling here, too.

Time passes and the light changes in the cave. It's darker, cooler, and I'm still staring into a perfect face. Her eyes flutter open and she takes in the changed setting. I see it register in her eyes, she knows that I didn't wake her up when I was supposed to. "Peeta, you were supposed to wake me up after a couple of hours!" she tells me, avoiding my gaze and grabbing her bow.

"For what?" I ask. "Nothing's going on here. Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot."

She scowls again, and I grin because she didn't get the joke that nothing could improve her at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Apparently to her, it feels like I have a fever, but I feel fine. Maybe that's partly because I've been staring at the definition of beauty for more than a few hours, but I don't mention that. I lie and insist that I was keeping hydrated while she slept, but evidently the water still feels full. She makes me drink so much water that I feel like I'm going to explode, and gives me several pills to take. She does what she can with the burns and stings, and finally she kneels and unwraps my leg.

It doesn't hurt, on the upside.

On the other hand, I know I have blood poisoning, and Katniss knows it too. "Well, there's more swelling, but the pus is gone," she says uneasily, trying not to show alarm.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss, even if my mother's not a healer," I tell her without taking my eyes off of the ruined mess of a leg I'm left with. A leg with frightening red streaks creeping up the angry crimson skin, a leg that I wonder if I'll ever use again.

"You're just going to have to outlast the others, Peeta," she says defiantly, looking up and into my eyes. "They'll cure it back at the Capitol when we win."

_When we win? _I know well that _we_ won't win. It will be Katniss that gets out of here alive. They may have said that two tributes from the same District could win if they were the last two standing, but I won't make it that far. By the time she's home, I'll be long gone.

So it's with great effort that I relax my face and say, "Yes, that's a good plan."

"You have to eat. Keep your strength up. I'm going to make you soup," she tells me, standing up and grabbing the pot.

"Don't light a fire; it's not worth it," I call after her as she makes her way out of the cave. The thought of someone seeing the fire, the thought of losing her because she's making soup (for _me!_) is unbearable.

"We'll see," she says without looking over her shoulder. I sigh.

As soon as she's out of my sight, I become much more aware of my surroundings. I realize that it's positively steaming hot in the cave, despite the moistness and shadows. I drag myself out of the sleeping bag and smooth out the wrinkles of it on the floor, then position myself on top of it with my leg stretched out in front of me. It occurs to me that I should feel cooler now that I'm out of the sleeping bag, but I don't. In fact, I realize that I feel warmer than before, and I'm starting to feel queasy again. I'm wondering exactly how long the soup that Katniss is making will stay in my stomach, and my insides squirm uncomfortably at the thought of eating anything right now. I lean back on the rocks, moaning softly, wondering if the cameras are trained on me. Surely they have been lately, because two tributes in love are the most entertaining, but a sick tribute alone is a boring tribute.

I wait for a while, wishing that the heat would let up for a while, and then I wonder if it's really hot at all. Is my fever so bad that it makes me feel like the air around me is scorching? Does Katniss feel it too? I reach over for the water and take a small drink, putting it back in place just as Katniss returns.

"Do you want anything?" she asks as she wrings out the cloths that didn't make me feel cooler at all.

"No, thank you," I reply. The only things I really want are out of our grasp. Medicine, proper care, food that can be counted on. Then I realize that a distraction is what we do have access to. We both need to go back to District 12, even if it's only for a few minutes. "Wait, yes. Tell me a story."

"A story? What about?" Katniss looks a little intimidated at the thought of telling a story.

"Something happy," I suggest, because if she told a sad story I don't think I could take it. "Tell me about that happiest day you can remember."

"Did I ever tell you about how I got Prim's goat?" I shake my head and smile. This sounds perfect.

She begins to weave a story about selling a locket of her mother's so that she could buy a goat for Prim, her younger sister. I listen, enthralled, as I begin to see everything perfectly, painting a picture in my mind. Prim, as sweet and delicate as always, with her arms around the goat, beaming up at Katniss. Katniss, giving Prim a rare smile and tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. I even include Gale in my picture, because he's a key part of the story (then again, he's a key part of any of the stories Katniss might tell). She seems lost in her memories as she tells of her mother and sister healing the goat, and I interject to point something out.

"They sound like you."

She gives a small start, and then shakes her head earnestly. "Oh, no, Peeta. They work magic. That thing couldn't have died if it tried," she adds, and then realizes how that might sound to me.

"Don't worry, I'm not trying. Finish the story," I say, to keep her mind off of me.

"Well, that's it. Only I remember that night, Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire. And just before they drifted off, the goat licked her cheek, like it was giving her a good night kiss or something. It was already mad about her," she finished fondly.

There's something missing in my painting. "Was it still wearing the pink ribbon?"

Her eyebrows furrow, and she bites her lip in concentration. "I think so. Why?"

"I'm just trying to get a picture," I reply, adding the pink ribbon around the neck of the small white goat. It's a beautiful scene, I wish I could really paint it. "I can see why that day made you happy."

"Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine."

I stare at her. _Really?_ "Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping."

Katniss looks indignantly at me before saying, "The goat _has_ paid for itself. Several times over!"

"Well it wouldn't dare do anything else after you saved its life," I point out. "I intend to do the same thing."

"Really? What did you cost me again?"

"A lot of trouble," I answer honestly. "Don't worry. You'll get it all back." After all, I do have a ripped up leg and I've tethered her down in a cave in the Hunger Games.

"You're not making sense," she tells me, looking frustrated. She lays a hand on my forehead and though I can see the worry register in her eyes, she lies and says plainly, "You're a little cooler, though."

Before I can tell her that she's an awful liar, there is a sudden fanfare of trumpets that echoes throughout the arena. Katniss is on her feet and to the edge of the cave before the trumpets have stopped playing, and I shift myself up so that I'm leaning back with my hands behind me.

The voice of Claudius Templesmith booms out of nowhere. "Greetings, tributes of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games! I'm very pleased to invite you to a feast, which will be, as usual at the Cornucopia." Katniss begins to walk back to me, but Claudius seems to read her mind. "Now hold on! Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately."

At this, Katniss looks at me and I look down at my leg.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up! For some of you, this will be your last chance."

Before I realize what I'm doing, I've struggled to my feet and limp over to Katniss before she can make any decisions on her own. I place a hand on her shoulder, letting her know I'm there, and then say plainly, "No. You're not risking your life for me." _Never. I have lost you too many times._

"Who said I was?"

I'm surprised and a little suspicious. "So you're not going?"

"Of course, I'm not going. Give me some credit," she says dramatically, not meeting my gaze as she helps me back to the sleeping bag. Does she think I can't tell when she's lying? She goes on. "Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh?" _Yes, Katniss, I do._ "Don't be stupid." _You're the one being stupid._ "I'll let them fight it out, we'll see who's in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there." _Since when have you been one to just let people "fight it out?"_

I can't take it anymore. "You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long," I say bluntly, then put on a high voice and do my best imitation of her. _"I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going!"_ I check her eyes for hurt and register only indignation. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," I recommend.

"All right, I am going, and you can't stop me!" she snaps at me, her face flushed.

"I can follow you," I point out. "At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone will find me." I let that sink in, and then add, "I'll be dead for sure."

"You won't get a hundred yards from here on that leg."

"Then I'll drag myself. You go and I'm going, too." I mean it. If she risks her life for me, and loses it, I would lose my mind.

Katniss' expression shifts to one of utmost hopelessness. "What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?"

"I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go." I know that her honor would never let her promise me something only to intentionally break it later.

She seems to be at a loss. I think that the way she sees it, it's between watching me die and risking herself so that I might die later. "Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bit of the soup no matter how disgusting it is!" she barks at me.

"Agreed." Anything is better than the thought of her leaving to probably never return. "Is it ready?"

She sighs. "Wait here."

I shift on the sleeping bag, relieved beyond words that she won't leave for this. I begin to wonder what the other tributes desperately need. Food? A tent, maybe? Or medicine, like I do? I've no idea, but I don't care to find out.

Soon Katniss is back with the soup and I brace myself for it. I promised her I would eat all of it, and I decide that I had better do so enthusiastically. After all, this is saving her life.

She takes the pot and water jugs back to the stream with her to wash up, and returns a little while later with what looks like berry mush with occasional mint leaves in the pot. She hands it to me, saying "I've brought you a treat. I found a new patch of berries a little farther downstream."

Still as enthusiastic as I was before, I take a huge bite, only to be shocked by how familiar and sweet the taste is. I don't know what type of berries she picked, but I've had something that tastes like them at home. "They're very sweet."

"Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them. Haven't you ever had them before?" she asks a little too innocently, shoving another large spoonful towards my mouth.

"No…but they taste familiar. Sugar berries?"

"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild," she tells me knowingly, spoon feeding me another bite.

"They're sweet as syrup," I comment, and then, in a flash of memories, it hits me. I see myself helping in the kitchen of the bakery back home, icing a cake for Mayor Undersee. I couldn't have been more than eight at the time, and my knife slipped, slicing the palm of my hand clean open. I started screaming, and my father came running, saw the damage, and the rest was a blur. I remember specifically waking up in Katniss' house after her mother had stitched up my hand. Lingering in my mouth from the moment my father had seen me was the taste of these sweet fake-sugar berries. "Syrup!"

Katniss was feeding me sleep syrup.

She realizes that I know the truth as soon as I tense up, and seizes the opportunity, covering my nose and mouth with her hand. I try to throw up the syrup, but it's no use. The last to go black are a pair of the most beautiful grey eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N: Okay, so I just wanted to thank you all for the reviews so far! I can't tell you how much they mean to me; I'm new to fanfiction and it's really great to be able to write and know that people do like it and want to read it. Thank you so much!)

It's so dark. I try to see, see anything, but there's nothing. Nothing but endless black eternity.

Something seems to light up, but it's very faint. I blink, but my eyelids weigh several tons and I've only confused myself more.

Finally, after what feels like several centuries, my eyes open and stay open as everything begins to focus. The memories flood back as I stare around the cave, remembering Katniss and what she did to me. No, what she did _for_ me.

And then I see her. "_Katniss!_" I gasp, though I know she can't hear me. I'm pulling myself out of the sleeping bag when I realize that I don't need to drag myself. The bag has been unzipped, and there's an enormous needle that's been jabbed into my skin. Funny, I thought I'd never be happy to see a needle like that. I yank it out, but don't take the time to examine my arm. It's then that I realized that my leg feels unbelievably light, free.

I kneel next to Katniss, shocked and thoroughly terrified. I realize immediately that she's still alive; if she hadn't been, the helicopter would have taken her away by now. I know it's up to me to keep her here with me, it's up to me to save her life. But how can I? She's been lying in a pool of her own blood for who knows how long. I'm not a healer at all, and that gash over her eyebrow looks so dangerous that I wonder if I should trust myself to patch it up. I decide that if she bleeds anymore, she'll die from the loss of blood, so I tie a bandage as tightly as I dare around her head. She doesn't move.

I moan quietly, because I'm so scared of doing something wrong. She seems to be worn out, the only real injury I can find is the slice above her eyebrow. The bandage is already turning red; I untie it and staunch the flow until it slows down, then take a clean bandage and tie it around her head. I take her boots and socks outside, as they're soaked through, and I figure they'll dry faster outside. I tuck her into the sleeping bag, trying to make her as comfortable as possible, but I can't know whether she's really aware of anything. "Katniss, please wake up," I whisper, caressing her face and tucking her hair behind her ear. But I know that there's nothing I can do but wait.

I lean up against the wall of the cave, staring at her helplessly. There's nothing I can do for her right now, it would be foolish to try anything. Eventually I realize that if I stare at her any longer, I'll break down, and that's really something I'd like to keep off of television. So my focus shifts to my leg. I realize that it's not completely healed; in fact, if it hadn't looked so bad before, I would have been concerned about it. But the swelling has stopped, and I can tell that the blood poisoning is gone. I can't believe that I can be relieved at a time like this, but I am. The blood poisoning is what would have done me in; now that it's gone, I feel like an enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I'll be limping if we walk around much, but limping is nothing next to dragging it after me, a useless limb.

I stare at her again for a while, willing her to wake up, willing her to tell me she's alright. I realize that I need to give myself what I gave her earlier. A distraction. I find the stash of groosling and it's only after I finish the first piece that I realize I'm ravenous. Soon, two other pieces are gone, and I'm left staring at the last bit of our food, only now grasping the fact that I just ate most of our food supply. I promise myself that I'll help make up for it later, and suddenly I hear the anthem, loud enough to give me a start. I limp to the entrance the cave, peering at the sky, wondering if I'll see any faces.

Only one. It's Clove. I sigh, relieved. Though the others are dangerous, to say the least, there was something about Clove that bothered me, something that led me to believe that there was more to her than it seemed. I'm abruptly angry at myself, because I realize that I'm glorifying the death of someone. I realize that it's not Clove that is (or was) my enemy; it's the Capital. Without the Capital, all of this pain would be gone. I experience another strange emotion just as I'm thinking this; I pity them. There's some good reason, I know there is, but I can't think of it. It's then that it occurs to me that I'm about to drop on the spot, and fall asleep. I resolve to figure out the way my mind works in the morning.

Despite the fact that I just woke up after having been knocked out by sleep syrup, I return to Katniss and curl up next to her, kissing her gently on the forehead just before letting myself drift off.

I wake up to the sound of soft rain outside, but I've no idea what time it is. I check on Katniss again and change her bandage even though it's really not bloody (though I'm afraid of an infection), then lean up against the side of the cave again, waiting for her to wake up. As I build something like a canopy of Katniss to stop the rain from sneaking into the cave, I think about the strange thoughts that I had had last night, the thoughts of Clove not being my enemy. What was I thinking? Of course she was my enemy! She was out to kill me, she almost killed Katniss. But I think about it more, and remember what I had thought was my enemy instead. It was the Capital. And as I stare into the face of a dying girl, I think about why she is here. If Prim's name hadn't been chosen, she would be safe at home. But if the Hunger Games never existed, there would be none of these deaths, there would be no children raised, learning to kill.

I wish I could make a difference. Just as I wished that day-how long ago was that? A week or two ago?-on the roof, I want to be more than just a part of this. I'm not just going to be entertainment for them. And as I tuck stubborn hair behind Katniss' ear yet again, I vow that I will get her out of here alive.

Just as I've collected my thoughts, Katniss begins to moan slightly. I give a start and notice her eyelids fluttering slightly. "Katniss? Are you alright?" She sighs slightly, as if relieved, but only half conscious. "Katniss? Katniss, can you hear me?"

Her eyes open and seem to focus on me, emotions that I can't identify rushing through her. She looks as if she realizes something. "Peeta."

Something in me flutters at the sound of my name. "Hey. Good to see your eyes again," I tell her, and I mean it. Try as I might, I could never remember exactly that shade of grey.

"How long have I been out?"

"Not sure. I woke up yesterday evening and you were lying next to me in a very scary pool of blood. I think it's stopped finally, but I wouldn't sit up or anything," I advise, grabbing the water to give her. She drinks it gratefully, and though I don't know much about healing, I know that we need to keep her hydrated and with food in her stomach.

Her eyes light up as she notices something. "You're better!"

"Much better. Whatever you shot into my arm did the trick," I say, smiling. I neglect to mention that she drugged me, ran off, and almost got herself killed just to get me medicine. "By this morning, almost all the swelling in my leg was gone."

"Did you eat?"

I blush a little bit, angry with myself for being so eager with the food. "I'm sorry to say I gobbled down three pieces of that groosling before I realized it might have to last a while," I confess. "Don't worry, I'm back on a strict diet."

"No, it's good. You need to eat. I'll go hunting soon."

It takes a lot of willpower to keep myself from raising my eyebrows skeptically. "Not too soon, all right? You just let me take care of you for a while."

To my relief, she hardly protests, and lets me go so far as feeding her, like she did to me. "Your boots and socks are still damp and the weather's not helping much," I tell her, at which point the thunder decides to support my point, quickly followed by a short and sudden illumination of the cave from the lightning. "I wonder what brought on this storm? I mean, who's the target?" I ask, though I don't think she knows the answer.

"Cato and Thresh," she replies immediately. "Foxface will be in her den somewhere"-I chuckle inwardly at the thought of her in a fox den-"and Clove…she cut me and then…" she seems unwilling to finish.

"I know Clove's dead. I saw it in the sky last night," I finish for her quickly, and then something occurs to me. "Did you kill her?"

"No," she confirms. "Thresh broke her skull with a rock."

The vivid mental image that pops into my head is by no means necessary. I push it away uncomfortably. "Lucky he didn't catch you, too."

She seems to pale a little bit. "He did. But he let me go," she tells me, much to my confusion, and then launches into a story that seems to begin when she teamed up with the young tribute, Rue, that I only catch snippets of, but I get enough to understand one thing.

"He let you go because he didn't want to owe you anything?" I ask incredulously. I'm glad he did, but it seems like it would make much more sense for him to eliminate more competition while he had Katniss so close with him.

"Yes. I don't expect you to understand it," she says, leaving me feeling slightly inferior. "You've always had enough. But if you lived in the Seam, I wouldn't have to explain."

"And don't try. Obviously I'm too dim to get it."

"It's like the bread. How I never seem to get over owing you for that," she says, completely catching me off guard.

"The bread?" There has been an awful lot to do with bread in my life, it's hard to narrow down to one event. Then I remember clearly, as if it had been days ago instead of years. "What? From when we were kids? I think we can let that go. I mean, you just brought me back from the dead."

"But you didn't know me," she protests, and I bite back a laugh. She thinks I didn't know her? "We had never even spoken. Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then. Why did you, anyway?"

"Why?" What does she mean, why? Didn't she hear me tell the world that I'm in love with her before the Games began? "You know why," to a painful-looking head shake. "Haymitch said you would take a lot of convincing."

"Haymitch?" she repeats, looking completely flabbergasted. "What's he got to do with it?"

"Nothing," I cover quickly, not wishing to delve into how deep we had talked before the Games. I change the subject. "So, Cato and Thresh, huh? I guess it's too much to hope that they'll simultaneously destroy each other?"

She looks a little sickened and disturbed by the thought. "I think we would like Thresh," she says, to my surprise. "I think he'd be our friend back in District 12."

I hate to be the one to point out that unfortunately we can't be friends with him, that he won't let her off the hook again. I try to say it gently, but it comes out sounding more grim. "Then let's hope Cato kills him, so we don't have to."

Katniss winces suddenly, tears forming in her eyes, and I seize the opportunity to ask her if she's in pain. "I want to go home, Peeta," she whispers, the tears spilling out of her eyes.

"You will. I promise," I tell her. _If it's the last thing I do, I'll get you out of here alive._ I kiss her gently, the only comforting thing that I can give her.

"I want to go home now." _If I could send you home now, I would do it before you knew it. I promise, Katniss, I would._

"Tell you what. You go back to sleep and dream of home," I suggest, hoping that she doesn't dream of a destructed District 12 like I did. "And you'll be there for real before you know it. Okay?"

"Okay," she murmurs. "Wake me if you need me to keep watch…"

"I'm good and rested, thanks to you and Haymitch. Besides, who knows how long this will last?"

She drifts off again, and I reflect on what we said. What stands out to me the most is that she remembers the bread, remembers it and feels like she's in my debt. I wonder if she thinks that I shouldn't have taken the beating for her, but then, I knew that the scars on my cheek would heal. I knew that she was close to the end, I saw her fall after looking through our trash, I wondered if she would get up. I hadn't thought twice about dropping the bread in the fire on purpose, and the slash on my cheek only barely stung next to the prospect of losing her. I'm convinced that at any point in my life, I would have dropped it, taken the beating, and saved her, and she should never feel like she was in my debt.

Now I wish it was as easy to save her life as it had been then.


	5. Chapter 5

**(A/N: To put it simply, you guys make me super happy. Thank you, once again!)**

I wonder what's going through the minds of the Gamemakers as the rain pours down outside, sending water splashing furiously through the cracks in the cave. There's not much I can do but shift the plastic that I put on the ceiling over Katniss earlier and put the broth pot under a particularly bad leak. I wish I could do more, partly because I'd rather not have to swim later on, and partly because, though I'm so hungry, and I'd really like to distract myself with something, I promised myself I wouldn't eat any more until Katniss woke up. I end up sitting in my usual place next to Katniss, doodling idly in the dirt, wishing for paint. I would paint something beautiful, something that would be a crime to destroy. I would paint Katniss, or a sunrise, the colors all blending together, or a clear night with stars so breathtaking that it's impossible to look away.

Eventually, I gently prod Katniss and help her sit up. I bring the last of the food over to her quickly, and ask if we should try to ration it.

"No, let's just finish it. The groosling's getting old anyway, and the last thing we need is to get sick off spoiled food," she replies to my relief as she divides the food into two piles, pushing some towards me. I end up with a piece of groosling, a few roots, and about three pieces of dried fruit. I attempt to take my time eating, but it ends up that the time I take is about three minutes. I stare at the place where my food was, willing it to reappear again and again. I feel like I didn't eat anything.

"Tomorrow's a hunting day," Katniss says, evidently of the same opinion on the amount of food.

"I won't be much help with that," I confess, though I figure that she already knew that. "I've never hunted before."

"I'll kill and you cook," she suggests. "And you can always gather."

"I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," I say wistfully, half-serious.

"The bread they sent me from District Eleven was still warm," she replies, sighing. In an effort to keep our stomachs at bay, she takes out some mint leaves and hands a few to me. "Here, chew these." I'm not surprised that they don't help at all.

We peer out of the entrance to the cave when the anthem begins, hoping to see a face in the sky, but we're disappointed.

Katniss eventually asks me, "Where did Thresh go? I mean, what's on the far side of the circle?"

"A field. As far as you can see it's full of grasses as high as my shoulders," I recall, and a thought occurs to me. "I don't know, maybe some of them are grain. There are patches of different colors. But there are no paths."

"I bet some of them are grain," Katniss replies thoughtfully. "I bet Thresh knows which ones, too. Did you go in there?"

"No. Nobody really wanted to track Thresh down in that grass. It has a sinister feeling to it. Every time I look at that field, all I can think of are hidden things." I give an involuntary shudder. "Snakes, and rabid animals, and quicksand." **(A/N: I was really tempted to add "Oh, my!" into this.)** "There could be anything in there."

There's a strange expression on Katniss's face that I can't quite decipher. It's gone before I can think too long on it, but there was some homesickness, some thoughtfulness, some fearlessness. As soon as her face is wiped clean of emotion, she says, "Maybe there is a bread bush in that field. Maybe that's why Thresh looks better fed now than when we started the games."

"Either that or he's got very generous sponsors," I suggest. "I wonder what we'd have to do to get Haymitch to send us some bread."

There it is again. A flash of emotion on her face, not the same as before. It's like there's something that I don't understand. She seems to know that I noticed her, and doesn't let me linger on it. "Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me knock you out," she points out smugly.

That sinks in, and I think about what could have happened to her. I could have woken up to a forever empty cave, I would have died later. I wouldn't have even been able to save her. I reach for her hand, holding it and thinking about the prospect of never holding it again. "Yeah, about that. Don't try something like that again."

"Or what?"

"Or…or…" I can't come up with anything. A lot of the punishments that I had come up with would hurt me because they hurt her. Like not speaking to her for a day. That would be a killer. "Just give me a minute."

"What's the problem?" she grins mischievously. _The problem is that you ran off and almost got killed. The problem is that that would have been on my shoulders, that I would never have forgiven myself. The problem is that you're here, and you seem to think that everything you did was fine and dandy._

Eventually I sort out my thoughts. "The problem is we're both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing."

"I did do the right thing," she contradicts me immediately.

I can feel a whole range of emotions bubbling up inside of me. The hurt I felt that she had tricked me, the short-lived anger for putting herself in danger for me, the worry that I wouldn't be able to save her, especially after she saved me. My hand tightens on hers, and I let it out. "No! Just don't, Katniss!" I'm imagining life without her, because of me. "Don't die for me! You won't be doing me any favors. All right?"

She looks shocked at how cold, how serious my voice is, and recoils slightly. I loosen my grip on her hand. I shouldn't have lost my temper, but I was being completely honest. Luckily, she seems to come to her senses and stand up for herself. "Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who…who worries about…what it would be like if…" she trails off, close to tears.

My plain blue eyes search her beautiful grey ones, searching for the truth in them. "If what, Katniss?"

Her next answer is something that I can tell she wants to keep off television. "That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," she replies, cutting off the eye contact.

I smile. "Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself."

I lean in, kissing her gently, and we both realize in the same moment that this is really a kiss. This isn't me dying on the floor of a cave, with her waking me up with a short one on the lips. This isn't me wishing that she could heal, and delicately letting her know that she means the world to me. Instead, this is the two of us responding to each other, willing to stay with each other, willing to stay like this until the world ends.

Or until she begins to bleed again.

I pull away, kiss her once on the nose, and tell her, "I think your wound is bleeding again." She looks up at me, breathless. I take in her expression, wondering how I got so lucky that she really is here, that she really loves me. "Come on, lie down, it's bedtime anyway," I say, trying to convince myself as much as her that we need to keep her healthy, we need to keep warm, and that I can't really kiss her until the world ends.

I pull my jacket on at her insistence after she puts her socks back on, hugging herself to keep warm. "I'll take first watch," she tells me determinedly, but I tell her that she won't take a watch tonight at all. She pushes for it, her eyes blazing, and I can tell I won't be able to defeat her.

"Look, I'll let you take first watch if you stay in the sleeping bag. You'll freeze to death otherwise, and I don't want to have to patch you up again," I tell her, opening the sleeping bag so she can warm up, and then sliding in after her. I turn on my side, facing Katniss as she uses my arm as a pillow, the other laid over her protectively, and drift off.

I dream about District 12 again, but it isn't destroyed like it was before. Instead, I'm watching Prim as the Games go on. I see her walk to the bakery, my father giving bread to her, and she walks on, smiling and warming her hands with the bread. She goes to school, keeping as much of a smile on her face as she can, but it seems to be a strain. They haven't begun to air most recent bit of the Games when she returns home, and she pulls out paper and a pencil and begins to write. It isn't homework, I can tell. It's long, and after a while, the tears begin to stream down her face. She folds it up, and scribbles something on the outside.

_Katniss_

Who, oddly enough, wakes me up, saying that she can't take watch much longer. I agree promptly that she needs to sleep, and she mumbles something about finding a tree tomorrow before she falls asleep.

I think about Prim, think about her writing to Katniss. I decide to write a letter back to her in my mind that she'll probably never hear, but I write it anyway.

_Dear Prim,_

_I just dreamed about you, and you were writing a letter to Katniss while she was in the Games. You looked so worried, and I wanted to let you know that I'm here, that I won't let anything hurt her, and that she will make it home. I promise you, she'll make it home._

_I told my father to make sure that you're holding up well, especially on the matter of food, and I hope he's held to that. If he gives you a cookie, and the icing isn't like it usually is, it's because my brother Rye probably did it since I'm gone._

_I know that this is easier said than done, but don't worry, Prim. I'm here, I'll help you both._

_Peeta _


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N: Okay, so you guys are amazing! Seriously, it's super cool seeing how people react to this, and thank you so much! Okay, I'll get back to the story now[: )**

The rain is still beating down on the cave when Katniss wakes up, and we rule finding a tree to sleep in (which is apparently what she said just before falling asleep last night) out. Our food supply has gone, and I volunteer to go out in the storm and scavenge. To my relief, she rules that out just as a particularly loud clap of thunder sounds. I'm secretly relieved; it would have been hard enough to go through the storm without a limp. But it's still hard to numb the pain in my stomach.

I can't think of any distractions to get us through today; I think it might be because we are both just so hungry and weak. We spend most of the day huddled together in the sleeping bag, shivering and taking occasional naps. The minutes stretch into hours and the hours seem to stretch into several days in which the Gamemakers decided to keep the sun up. I write a few mental letters to Prim while Katniss is napping, but even if she could get them, I don't think she would find them very interesting. They're mostly about food.

Eventually Katniss speaks up on something that can keep us occupied. "Peeta, you said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?"

I smile for what feels like the first time in years. I can remember the day perfectly, which is fairly surprising considering that I'm too weak to remember how long we've been in here. Maybe I only remember it so well because I think about it more than I should. "Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair…it was in two braids instead of one." I can rattle off everything about her easily, thinking about all the times that I wanted to paint the scene. "My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."

Bemused, she asks, "Your father? Why?"

"He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.'"

"What? You're making that up!" Katniss laughs nervously.

"No, true story," I reply, grinning. I wonder what my dad's thinking back home. Hopefully my mom's not in the room, watching TV with him. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could have had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings…'" I trail off for a minute, thinking about the talent that he had passed on to the girl sitting in the sleeping bag next to me. "'…even the birds stop to listen.'"

"That's true. They do," she replies with a bittersweet look on her face. "I mean, they did," she finishes, catching herself.

"So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song." I picture a five-year-old Katniss beaming with her hand waving wildly in the air. "Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," I recall, and I can hear the pure melody in her beautiful voice lilting through my memories.

"Oh, please," she laughs.

"No, it happened!" I insist. "And right when your song ended, I knew-just like your mother-I was a goner. Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you," I finish, unable to believe the difference that a few weeks could make.

"Without success," she points out unhelpfully.

"Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck."

She seems a bit speechless for a moment. I don't blame her, it's a lot to take in. She eventually says, "You have a…remarkable memory."

I smile and play lightly with her hair. "I remember everything about you. You're the one who wasn't paying attention."

"I am now," she says shyly, looking at me out of the corners of her eyes.

"Well, I don't have much competition here," I remark, thinking about Gale back home. Something in me seems to droop a little bit.

And then Katniss says the one thing that I've been dying to hear since I was five years old. "You don't have much competition anywhere."

Whatever drooped before shoots up, leaving me feeling euphoric. She leans in, just about to kiss me, when we both hear something and give a start. She grabs her bow and I leap to my feet as quickly as I can with my leg, wishing that whoever it was could have waited a few more minutes. I hurry out to the entrance, bracing myself for anything, and let out a whoop when I see what it is. A basket filled with steaming food, having just drifted down from a silver parachute. I lift it up, inhaling all the smells that remind me of the Capital, and hurry back inside, grinning from ear to ear.

"I guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve," I say specifically for Haymitch to hear.

"I guess so," she replies, staring hungrily at the food. It's the stew that she mentioned specifically when we were in the Capital. She looks about ready to inhale the entire portion of stew in a matter of seconds, and before she can, I say quickly, "We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn't even starving then."

She sighs sadly and agrees, knowing that it would probably not be wise to get sick as soon as we have access to food. We divide it all up, eating tiny portions to go easy on our stomachs, but it's almost taunting us. When I finish, I watch Katniss stare at her empty plate and declare, "I want more."

I bite back a laugh. "Me too. Tell you what, we wait an hour, if it stays down, then we get another serving," I suggest.

"Agreed. It's going to be a long hour," she remarks, still eyeing her plate.

"Maybe not that long," I say, deciding to turn the conversation back to what it was just before we received our dinner. "What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me…no competition…best thing that ever happened to you…" I tack onto the end, waiting for her reaction.

"I don't remember that last part," she says a little nervously, blinking a bit and looking away from me.

"Oh, that's right. That's what _I_ was thinking," I say through my chattering teeth. "Scoot over, I'm freezing."

She does, and leans her head against my shoulders. I wrap my arms around her tenderly, and she brings up the subject again, to my surprise. "So, since we were five, you never even noticed any of the other girls?" She seems a little surprised.

"No, I noticed just about every girl," I correct. "But none of them made a lasting impression but you."

"I'm sure that would thrill your parents, you liking a girl from the Seam."

I think back on it. My mother certainly wasn't thrilled, but my father seemed to approve of my taste without hesitation. "Hardly. But I couldn't care less. Anyway, if we make it back, you won't be a girl from the Seam, you'll be a girl from Victor's Village."

She perks up a little bit, and then something else seems to hit her, and she makes a face. "But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!" She looks revolted.

I pull her closer to me. "Ah, that'll be nice. You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales."

Katniss fails miserably at holding in a laugh. "I told you, he hates me!"

"Only sometimes. When he's sober, I've never heard him say one negative thing about you," I point out.

"He's never sober!"

"That's right! Who am I thinking of?" I pretend to be deep in thought. "Oh, I know. It's Cinna who likes you. But that's mainly because you didn't try to run if he set you on fire. On the other hand, Haymitch…well, if I were you, I'd avoid Haymitch completely. He hates you."

She raises her eyebrows. "I thought you said I was his favorite."

"He hates me more. I don't think people in general are his sort of thing."

She thinks for a minute, probably imagining Haymitch's reaction, like I am. Then she startles me with a question. "How do you think he did it?"

"Who? Did what?"

"Haymitch. How do you think he won the Games?"

I have to think on that one for a minute. I'd thought about it before, but never really lingered on it. Now I begin to realize that there is nothing so remarkable about Haymitch that he would win at all. Except for one thing.

"He outsmarted the others."

She knows I'm right, and we sit in silence. My mind lingers on his Games; what the arena was like, whether he teamed up with anyone, what he did that was so smart that he got out alive. Eventually, the silence takes both of our minds back to our stomachs, and Katniss suggests that we don't wait any longer. I don't argue.

She's just dishing out more tiny portions when we hear the familiar tune of the anthem playing outside the cave. I peer through the rocks at the sky, not expecting to see anyone among the clouds. "There won't be anything to see tonight," Katniss says, but to my shock she is wrong. Thresh is staring down at me from the sky.

"Katniss," I say softly.

"What?" She seems to be still absorbed in the stew. "Should we split another roll, too?"

"Katniss."

"I'm going to split one," she announces, and I can tell that she's choosing not to hear me. I turn and look at her sadly. She sees me staring. "What?"

"Thresh is dead."

She blinks. "He can't be."

"They must have fired the cannon during the thunder and we missed it," I reason, but I'm shocked too.

She seems to be in denial. "Are you sure? I mean, it's pouring buckets out there. I don't know how you can see anything." She makes her way over, peeking outside just long enough that what I said is confirmed. She pulls away, looking completely unsure of how she is supposed to feel. Before I know it, and probably without her even noticing, tears begin to well up in her eyes.

"You all right?" I ask quickly.

I watch emotions flash across her face-denial, shock, sorrow-until she pulls herself together. "It's just…if we didn't win…I wanted Thresh to. Because he let me go. And because of Rue."

"Yeah, I know," I agree. "But this means we're one step closer to District 12." She doesn't move. I scoot her plate towards her, trying to get her mind off of him. "Eat. It's still warm."

She does, but I can tell that she doesn't taste it at all. "It also means Cato will be back hunting us."

"And he's got supplies again," I can't help adding.

"He'll be wounded, I bet," she points out, which confuses me.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because Thresh never would have gone down without a fight," she says simply. "He's so strong-I mean, he was. And they were in his territory."

"Good. The more wounded Cato is, the better. I wonder how Foxface is making out," I remark, having picked up her nickname.

"Oh, she's fine," Katniss huffs resentfully. I try not to chuckle. "Probably be easier to catch Cato than her."

I have to agree with that, but there's still another option. "Maybe they'll catch each other and we can just go home," I say, and it occurs to me that now might be the time to admit something I've been feeling guilty about. "But we better be extra careful about the watches. I dozed off a few times."

"Me, too," she replies guiltily. "But not tonight."

We clean our plates again and I tell her that I'll take the first watch. I promise myself that I won't fall asleep as she burrows down underneath the sleeping bag, and I listen as her breath becomes steady again. I write a mental letter to Prim and wonder vaguely if I'll tell her about this if we ever get out of here. The thought of Prim leads me to thinking about her goat and the cheese she makes, and eventually I can't take it anymore. I try not to disturb Katniss as I get up, and I crouch next to the stash of food, spreading a bit of the warm cheese over some of the roll and trying (and failing) to eat it slowly. I return to the sleeping bag and let my thoughts drift as the time passes. I'm pleased to be able to wake her up without having fallen asleep myself.

I hand her half of a roll and say, "Don't be mad. I had to eat again. Here's your half."

"Oh good!" She takes it immediately and practically inhales it.

"We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery," I remark, wishing for some right now.

"Bet that's expensive."

"Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it's gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale," I yawn, and get comfortable. I'm out like a light, and find myself dreaming of tarts and home and paint and Katniss.

**So, please please please review! It makes me want to write faster! (: Also, I've mentioned Prim's letters several times and I've written a fanfic consisting only of them called "Letters With Love." If you're interested, please read them and review! Thanks so much!(:**


	7. Chapter 7

**ACK! I made a mistake as far as the plot goes in the last version of this! I'm sorry! So I'm replacing it with this, and I apologize for not thinking that through. Thanks to ****Analyn** **Lana** **Ruse** **and AnnieSometimes for catching it! All of this is the same until Peeta's realization, which I totally messed up…but anyway! As always, thank you for the reviews, and, as always, please keep them coming! I quite like them. To say the least(:**

Somewhere in between unconsciousness and wakefulness, it registers in me that this is all I've been doing. I sleep, and I wake up, and I hope I won't die. I sleep, and I wake up, and I hope Katniss will make it home.

Is this all that will happen to me for the rest of my life? It could be all of two days.

Who knew I could think so deeply while I'm still half asleep?

I really wake up to a slight nudge on the shoulder from Katniss. The world around us that is our cave slides into focus, but I center in on her face. The thought of losing her overwhelms me for the umpteenth time, and I gently pull her down for a kiss.

She leans back up, tweaking my nose and saying, "We're wasting hunting time."

"I wouldn't call it wasting," I reply, stretching and yawning as I sit up. "So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?"

"Not us," Katniss declares, grinning. "We stuff ourselves to give us staying power."

"Count me in!" I'm assuming that by "stuffing ourselves," we'll eat enough that it keeps our stomachs at bay, because really stuffing ourselves here is literally impossible. But she splits the entire thing and gives me half, and I stare at it, completely bewildered. "All this?"

"We'll earn it back today," she assures me, digging in, and I follow suit. It occurs to me that the last time I ate this much was in the Capital, and I look up to see Katniss licking gravy off of her fingers, abandoning everything that Effie tried to nail into our brains about good manners. I grin as she laughs, "I can feel Effie Trinket shuddering at my manners."

I decide to mess with Effie. I wonder what she's been thinking about us lately; she's probably been declaring to everyone in her silly voice that she knew we would win, she just knew it! "Hey, Effie, watch this!" I throw my fork over my shoulder and lift my plate up so that I can literally (and loudly) lick it clean. I put it down and blow a kiss to her. "We miss you, Effie!"

I've never seen Katniss laugh so hard. She tries to muffle my voice with her hand over my mouth, but she's giggling too much. "St-stop! Cato could be right outside our cave!"

I pull her hand away from my face and state for the entire world to hear, "What do I care? I've got you to protect me now!" I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into a hug that she attempts to worm out of.

"Come on!" she protests just as I kiss her again and finally succeeds in wriggling away.

We pack up everything into the backpack, and with each thing I put away, my nerves up a notch. The cave has been a home to us for the past few days; leaving it feels like leaving all safety. Now, we are out in the open, me with a lame leg, and Cato determined to kill us. But there's no delaying it. It's doubtful that Foxface and Cato would kill each other simultaneously, leaving us laughing about manners in our cave and suddenly finding that we've won. We can't stay in our oasis in the Games forever.

I take the knife that Katniss hands me, balancing it in my hand for a minute to get a sense of it, then slip it into my belt. She fingers her quiver of arrows nervously, and I know she's thinking that she's lost too many to feel comfortable. "He'll be hunting us by now," I say, unable to maintain an attitude that's unrealistically optimistic. "Cato isn't one to wait for his prey to wander by."

"If he's wounded…" she starts, trying to keep some sense of hopefulness.

I cut her off. "It won't matter. If he can move, he's coming."

She seems to accept that reluctantly, but she knows I'm right. We replenish our water supply at the river and she checks snares, but to no avail. "If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds," she decides, and even though I know she's more at home in the woods than anywhere, it's uncomfortable for me to consider going somewhere unfamiliar.

"Your call. Just tell me what you need me to do."

"Keep an eye out," she suggests. "Stay on the rocks as much as possible, no sense in leaving him tracks to follow. And listen for both of us."

I nod and prepare myself for this. Why does the arena have to be based on hunting? Why couldn't the Games just be a huge baking contest?

We follow the rocks until we reach the dense tree lines. I'm pulling my leg along as quietly as I can, until suddenly Katniss whips around, looking as though she's trying to contain frustration. "What?"

"You've got to move more quietly," she hisses. _It's not my fault, _I think, but I don't say anything. "Forget about Cato, you're chasing off every rabbit in a ten-mile radius."

I feel my eyebrows rise in disbelief, though it's genuine surprise, not anger. "Really? Sorry, I didn't know."

We keep going, and I'm beginning to feel pretty good about myself and how quiet I am until she turns around in exasperation again. "Can you take your boots off?"

"Here?" _Yes, that sounds logical, Katniss. I'll just take off my shoes and walk around, and then if my feet get hurt, I won't be able to walk at all. Yeah, I'll do that right away._

"Yes," she replies, failing to wipe the annoyance off of her face. "I will, too. That way we'll both be quieter."

I decide just to go with it. She knows what she's doing, right? I hope so.

We continue on in our bare feet for a while, and Katniss shoots nothing. I begin to realize that what she was saying has some truth to it; what sounds normal, even quiet to me, is like an elephant next to the steps she takes. It sounds more like she's gliding, because there's really no sound at all coming from her. I try to mimic her movements, but it doesn't really help me. Eventually I suggest, "Katniss, we need to split up. I know I'm chasing away game."

"Only because your leg's hurt," she tries to insist, but I see through the lie again, as usual.

I don't argue. "I know. So, why don't you go on? Show me some plants to gather and that way we'll both be useful."

"Not if Cato comes and kills you," she replies unhelpfully, but she looks extremely relieved at my suggestion. I laugh.

"Look, I can handle Cato. I fought him before, didn't I?"

She bites back a response, and, in a forcedly sweet tone, suggests, "What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as lookout while I hunted?"

I can't stop myself from imitating her almost sweet voice. "What if you show me what's edible around here and go get us some meat? Just don't go far, in case you need help."

She doesn't like it, but shows me roots that I can dig and teaches me a signal to whistle so that each of us knows that the other is okay. She leaves the backpack with me and, though I don't hear her, I look up and she's gone.

Every few minutes we whistle back and forth, and it's a reassuring sound. It gives me a promise that she's still here, that the cannon won't blow for her any time soon. I dig up the roots and look around a bit more, thinking that surely there is something else edible around here that doesn't require shooting. I whistle once more and begin to stride around, examining the plants. I spot a promising-looking bush of berries by the stream and make my way over to them, thinking about how maybe we won't be too hungry tonight. I pick several and consider tasting some, but I decide that it would take the taste of the rich Capital food out of my mouth, so I refrain from it. I hurry back to the pack and place the berries on a sheet of plastic, and then go off again to pick some more.

I'm shocked when I return again to find an outraged Katniss and end up flinging the berries behind me in surprise as she turns her bow on me, not knowing that it's me instead of Cato. "What are you doing?" she half screams. "You're supposed to be here, not running around in the woods!"

"I found some berries by the stream," I say lamely, and wish I hadn't thrown my evidence back into the bushes in fright.

"I whistled. _Why didn't you whistle back?_" Talk about moody.

"I didn't hear. The water's too loud, I guess." I stride over to her and steady her shaking body with my hands on her shoulders, concern etching itself on my face.

"I thought Cato killed you!" _I appreciate your concern, love, but I don't let that sort of thing happen, remember? I'm here to protect you._

"No, I'm fine." I hug her gently, but she stiffens. "Katniss?"

She pulls away from me, fuming. "If two people agree on a signal, they stay in range. Because if one of them doesn't answer, they're in trouble, all right?"

I let her rant. I feel bad about walking to the stream, but I can't undo it now. "All right!"

"All right. Because that's what happened with Rue, and I watched her die!"

That hits me like a slap in the face. I think of all the fear I caused her, all the worry, all the painful memories. _I'm sorry, Katniss. I really am._

She turns away and takes a long swig of water, calming herself down and, I can tell, trying not to scream again. "And you ate without me!"

I actually step back in surprise. "What? No, I didn't."

"Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese," she snaps sarcastically.

"I don't know what ate the cheese, but it wasn't me," I say as calmly as I can, but my temper is rising. I could understand why she was angry about the whistling, but this? I didn't eat anything, and even if I did, what does it matter to her? "I've been down by the stream collecting berries. Would you care for some?" I finish, picking some up from the sheet of plastic.

She's cooled down a little and walks over to me, examining the berries and taking a few into her hand. Realization seems to hit her full blast just as the cannon booms.

She whips around, as if I might have died spontaneously, but I give her a look of confusion. The helicopter appears, and I see it take away a small body.

Foxface. And she wouldn't have died spontaneously.

I pull her towards a tree. "Climb," I tell her, kneeling to give her a boost up. "He'll be here in a second. We'll stand a better chance fighting him from above."

She freezes up again and turns around, her expression impossible to read. "No, Peeta, she's your kill, not Cato's."

"What?" I'm completely confused. "I haven't even seen her since the first day. How could I have killed her?"

She simply holds out the berries to me. I feel my eyebrows disappear into my hair as I stare at them, bemused.

She begins to explain. These berries are deadly, she says, and her father told her never to eat them. But I didn't know that, and I would have eaten them,-and the thought that I almost did haunts me-so Foxface thought she could trust them.

I think about what she said earlier. _My kill._ Of course, I killed the girl earlier in the Games, but that felt different. I felt like I had been helping her, and it must have been an easier death than a long, drawn out one. It had been quick, and easy. It had seemed the kinder thing to do.

But this? This time, I had really killed someone, taken a life that wasn't mine to take. I was the difference between her seeing her family again, and, without even making a choice, it was my fault that they would only ever see her again in their dreams.

And even if Katniss and I didn't win, I had wanted Foxface to. She really deserved it, especially considering that the alternative was Cato. I promise myself in that moment that, even though Foxface and I were never allies, I won't ever let Cato win. She could have beaten him if it came down to it, and I had taken her away from her chances.

And I begin to wonder something. I've called her Foxface since I've been with Katniss, and before that I only pictured her, not associating a name with her. But surely she had one.

I feel sick to realize that I'll never know it.

**[New A/N: Thanks again! And sorry for any confusion that might have caused!] And that is the end of that chapter. Quick question! I was originally just going to stop at this point, because I'm not all that great at writing about action stuff, like the Cornucopia bit at the end…but I will if you all really want me to. I warn you, it won't be very good, but I'll try if it comes to it! Review pretty please! And let me know what you think about this, and the existence of future chapters. Thanks lovely people!(: I like you all!**


	8. Chapter 8

**As of now, I'm going on! (: Thank you for the responses, as always; I don't think I could say that enough! **

**It occurred to me that I have never used a disclaimer…and I'm not sure if I should. So here we go…Disclaimer: By no means do I own any of these characters, situations, etc. If I did, I would be very happy and I could officially claim Peeta as mine. Thank you Suzanne Collins for letting me explore the minds of these amazing characters!**

There were four of us left. And now there are three.

When Foxface was still alive, what were the chances that it would be she that found us, and not Cato? I realize how lucky we are. If Cato had been the one to track us down, he wouldn't have stolen our food. He wouldn't have crept towards us, close enough that he could have killed us, and then scurried away. He would have made sure that we never made it home, and he would have had fun doing it.

I feel a shiver ripple through me. How did we get so lucky that, instead of being killed, we were the ones that were inadvertently doing the killing?

"I wonder how she found us," I say, thinking out loud. "My fault, I guess, if I'm as loud as you say."

I don't think Katniss realizes how bad she is at being subtle. I can tell she agrees with me as she says, very unbelievably, "And she's very clever, Peeta. Well, she was. Until you outfoxed her."

"Not on purpose. Doesn't seem fair somehow. I mean, we would have both been dead too, if she hadn't eaten the berries first." _At least I didn't taste them earlier. I don't even know what kept me from it._ "No, of course, we wouldn't. You recognized them, didn't you?"

"We call them nightlock," she tells me, nodding.

"Even the name sounds deadly. I'm sorry, Katniss. I really thought they were the same ones you'd gathered," I apologize, thinking that it's fortunate that she didn't give me these instead of the "sugar berries." I get another chill at the thought.

"Don't apologize," she tells me, sincere for once. "It just means we're one step closer to home, right?"

I'm itching to get rid of the evidence, get rid of the reminder of my kill, get rid of the evidence that almost took our lives. So I try to, wrapping them up carefully in plastic and hurrying towards the woods, desperate to get them out of my sight.

"Wait!"

I turn around in surprise. Katniss has pulled out a little leather pouch and fills it with the nightlock when I come back to her. "If they fooled Foxface, maybe they can fool Cato as well. If he's chasing us or something, we can act like we accidentally drop the pouch and if he eats them-"

"Then hello District Twelve," I say, catching on.

She ties the pouch to her belt. "That's it."

"He'll know where we are now," I point out. "If he was anywhere nearby and saw that hovercraft **(A/N: Thanks, rawrzez! Sorry about that last chapter!)**, he'll know we killed her and come after us."

I can see the wheels turning in her head as she thinks her way through our options. "Let's make a fire," she decides abruptly, beginning to collect wood. "Right now."

_Right here? He knows we're here, do you really think we should just stick around and wait for him so we can let him win? We basically told him that we're here, and once he makes it here, he won't hesitate to kill us, he won't hesitate to kill you. And didn't I promise that I'd get you home?_ "Are you ready to face him?" I ask eventually, having come to the conclusion that it wouldn't do any good to lash out at her. It seemed a rash decision to me, but I know she's smart, she surely has thought it through.

"I'm ready to eat. Better to cook our food while we have the chance. If he knows we're here, he knows. But he also knows there's two of us and probably assumes we were hunting Foxface. That means you're recovered. And the fire means we're not hiding, we're inviting him here," Katniss points out, and then asks me, "Would you show up?"

Well, she showed me. "Maybe not," I admit, and lean down, helping her collect the branches and wood. I end up making the fire, but it takes me a little while more than it usually does. The wood is a little damp, so I have some trouble with it, but I'm used to making fires, as our oven back home used one. Pretty soon there's a blaze burning, and it gives both of us hope to see food roasting and the overall hopeful brightness of the flame. We gather greens in shifts so that we don't let the food burn or the fire spread, and both of us are keeping an eye out for Cato; we could have misjudged him. Once the food is cooked, we pack up and leave the fire burning, each of us clutching a rabbit's leg for our trip to the currently undecided destination-which I'm hoping is the cave-and Katniss begins to scout out the area around us.

"How about this tree?" she asks, looking up into something that looks like a deathtrap to me.

I raise my eyebrows, wondering why she would consider a tree at all for our new home.

"No? Well, okay," she replies, moving on, and I guess she thinks that I just didn't like that particular tree. "This one?"

Okay, so she's set on trees. But doesn't she realize that we would be at much more of a risk in one? "I can't climb like you, Katniss, especially with my leg, and I don't think I could ever fall asleep fifty feet above the ground."

"It's not safe to stay out in the open, Peeta," she informs me, peering up into the depths of another monstrosity.

"Can't we go back to the cave? It's near water and easy to defend." _And it's definitely not out in the open._

I don't think she notices that she rolls her eyes, but I see it. She considers it, and then, to my surprise, stands on her tiptoes and kisses me gently. "Sure. Let's go back to the cave."

I had been anticipating more screaming. She hadn't seemed to agree with me that much today, and now she just decides to kiss me? I'm not complaining, of course. "Well, that was easy."

We put a bit more wood on the fire, letting it burn as strongly as it can and hopefully confusing Cato, though I doubt he trusts any of our actions now. We walk into the unknown, and I'm still slightly in shock about how silent she is. I try to pull my leg up at times, keeping it from crunching down on the leaves that seem determined to make me seem loud.

We meet the stream, which has gone down a lot since the last time we saw it, and, as we've been trying to save our energy for this walking, Katniss speaks for the first time since we set off. "Let's walk in the water; it's quieter and easier."

I agree quickly, my feet aching, and step into it. I still have to limp, as I assume I always will, but the cool water has never been more welcome. Katniss eyes the stream, looking for fish that might fill up our stomachs a bit more than the rabbit did, but we have no luck. Instead, we face a hike that seems unending, especially considering we've had virtually no activity since staying in the cave. I shiver slightly as the wind picks up, blowing leaves in our path and Katniss' hair in her face.

The group of rocks that marks what I've come to think of as home nears us just as the sun is setting. In any other situation, I would stop and watch it as the colors streamed out everywhere and wish I had paints to capture it. But now isn't the time, so we replenish our water supply and trudge inside and begin to unpack. I unroll the sleeping bag as Katniss sets out food, dividing it up so that we will hopefully both end up with semi-full stomachs. I savor each bite, wondering when I'll eat again, and repeatedly find myself jerking awake. I try to hide it, but my blinks become progressively longer, and eventually Katniss orders me to go to bed, telling me that she'll take first watch. I don't want to make her stay awake longer, but I figure that if I guard now I would just leave us vulnerable. So I drift off, exhausted, into a dreamless sleep that's so welcome.

"…Peeta…Peeta," I hear from far away, and feel a slight shaking on my shoulder. My eyes open slowly as I wake up and take in the light of the cave. I was expecting near darkness; it's instead pale grey, like the sun is just beginning to come up.

"I slept the whole night. That's not fair, Katniss, you should have woken me," I yawn, struggling out of the sleeping bag. She takes my place in it, curling up and getting comfortable.

"I'll sleep now. Wake me if anything interesting happens," she suggests, her eyelids closing and her breathing immediately steadying.

I sit next to her, my leg stretched out in front of me, as I think through what is going to happen. We've retreated back to our home base, which could be interpreted as cowardly, or as smart. Either way, we're safe until Cato finds **(A/N: FIND! avpm, anyone?)** us, or until the Gamemakers deem this too boring. The thought of it makes me nauseous as I imagine fires, floods, snowstorms, droughts…anything to make this more interesting than two star-crossed lovers sitting in a cave with a fierce competitor on the prowl. And as I envision the many ways that I could die, I begin to see Katniss. Beautiful, perfect Katniss being torn apart, being killed, being ripped away from me. The one person that I would die for, being tortured and murdered in a million different ways. And each time that I think that my awful visions have ended, there's another, another stab to my heart.

I reach up and find my face soaking wet with tears. I brush them away and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to stop the thoughts that pain me so. But I can't stop.

Fire. Brutal animals. Fierce storms. Deadly weapons. Poison. Pain.

My eyes are suddenly open, and I'm gasping and coughing from keeping in the shouts of pain. I breathe heavily, feeling sweat and tears run down my face. I wasn't asleep, but that felt like a nightmare. Am I delusional?

I look down into the face that I could never forget and I feel a weight lifted from me. She's here now, she's safe. _And you can keep her safe,_ I tell myself, leaning down to kiss her nose gently. "Nothing will happen to you," I promise her in a whisper, though I know she can't hear me.

She shifts, her arm hanging out of the sleeping bag, and I take her hand. My lifeline, right here.

I let myself calm down. Still holding her hand, I doodle in the dirt on the ground and suddenly find images of Katniss smiling up at me. I draw a sunset, and, though I don't have colors, I like the look of it. It's peace, it's beauty, it's simplicity. It's what I wish the world could be.

She turns over again and I'm forced to let go of her hand that has kept me from the horrors that my imagination has produced. I figure out that as long as I keep looking at her, keeping her face in my mind, the disasters stop. And now, I wait for her to wake up so that I can hear her voice again, and feel my sanity set in again.

**Sorry that was a relatively unremarkable chapter. I tried to put in a bit of emotion at the end, as you never really know what's going on while Katniss is asleep. As usual, reviews are always appreciated!(: Thank you lovelies!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Whoa. I'm wayyy late! Sorry about that! This chapter's a bit longer than the others, I worked pretty hard on it, and I found out that action is a lot more fun than I had thought! As always, let me know what you think about it! I write for me, but the reviews give me so much help and encouragement.**

Her eyes flutter open after far too long, even if I couldn't bring myself to wake her. She yawns and stretches. "Any sign of our friend?"

"No, he's keeping a disturbingly low profile," I reply, thinking that it really is strange that we've heard nothing from him all this time.

"How long do you think we have before the Gamemakers drive us together?" So she was on the same thought process as I was. Hopefully she didn't have the torturous mental images that I did.

"Well, Foxface died almost a day ago,"-I shudder inwardly, still disgusted with myself-"so there's been plenty of time for the audience to place bets and get bored. I guess it could happen at any moment."

"Yeah, I have a feeling today's the day. I wonder how they'll do it."

I have no answer. I try to focus on her face, shoving the awful thoughts out of my mind.

Katniss looks like she's collected her thoughts, controlled the emotions that she barely displayed. "Well, until they do, no sense in wasting a hunting day. But we should probably eat as much as we can hold just in case we run into trouble." I nod, still unable to say anything. I'm fighting back tears. Today could be the day that I lose the only person worth living for.

I gather our things together and pack them all securely into the backpack as she assembles our food, laying out a relatively big meal of rabbit, roots, greens, and Capital rolls. I eat, but I'm still numb, struggling to get over the idea that I will have to make sure that Cato dies today, struggling to get over the idea that I will probably take another life today, that I will rip apart a family. _Don't make me,_ I plead to the Gamemakers. _Why do you make any of us come here and kill people? How can you enjoy this?_

I hesitate at the mouth of the cave for just a moment, just long enough to know that I will never return here. Katniss pats the rocks affectionately, and I know that she's thinking the same thing: we will either be going home, or we will be dead tonight. No, no wait, she won't die. She won't.

We reach the stream, which isn't a stream at all anymore. It's a ribbon of dirt, streaking through the forest where the water used to be. "Not even a little damp," Katniss remarks gloomily, straightening up after having just knelt to test it. "They must have drained it while we slept."

"The lake. That's where they want us to go." _And that's where they want Cato, too. They want us to kill each other there. Will I be drowned in a few hours?_

"Maybe the ponds still have some," Katniss tries optimistically.

_They wouldn't have overlooked that, would they? _But I still can't stand the thought of facing him, so I go along with it. "We can check."

I'm right. There is no water here. From now on, we will be walking to death, be it ours or Cato's.

"You're right. They're driving us to the lake," Katniss says, accepting it. "Do you want to go straightaway or wait until the water's tapped out?"

"Let's go now, while we've had food and rest." There's no use in dragging this out; even if we waited, they would drive us there with some other disaster. "Let's just go end this thing."

She takes a deep breath and nods, and, before I know it, she starts shaking. I don't think she's even aware of it, but I know that she's so scared, and that she's thinking that, hours from now, she will either be home, or dead. But I won't let her die here. I take her in my arms, holding her against me, because there is nothing that I could possibly say.

I try, because otherwise we will never move on. "Two against one. Should be a piece of cake."

"Next time we eat, it will be in the Capitol." She stops shaking.

_I wish I could believe that._ I'm losing my faith. I say what I don't believe. "You bet it will."

My arms remain wrapped around her, as if I could protect her from everything that could hurt her, and we stay like that, appreciating the last guaranteed place that we will have each other. I take in her scent, even if it's slightly covered by the muddy forest smell, and lock it into my mind as the memories rush over me. I see her, walking up in place of Prim, spinning in her beautiful dress, finding me in the mud, kissing me, lying in blood, waking up…And I know then that, though I had started to become unsure, I refuse to let anything happen to her. If it's the last thing I'll do, and it very well could be, I will get her home.

I exhale softly into her hair, and we break apart and turn, heading for the lake. I want to take her hand in mine, have some part of her to hold as we walk into what could turn into the end of my life. _I love you. Don't ever forget it. I love you so much._

We keep walking, passing painful reminders of earlier days in the Games, sites of the deaths of other tributes, memories that will never leave us. The sun is just beginning to sink on the horizon when we make it out of the forest and onto the plain. We circle around the Cornucopia to make sure that Cato isn't hidden, and we find no one. We make our way over to the lake obediently, knowing that each step takes us closer to Cato, though he isn't in our view right now.

I'm purifying the water in the containers when she speaks. "We don't want to fight him after dark. There's only one pair of glasses."

"Maybe that's what he's waiting for," I suggest without looking up. "What do you want to do? Go back to the cave?" That seems to be our go-to escape. Is that good? Or is it cowardly?

To my surprise, she doesn't veto it right away. "Either that or find a tree. But let's give him another half hour or so. Then we'll take cover."

So we finish restocking our water and purifying it, and we sit at the edge of the water in the swiftly departing sunlight. The mockingjays sing in the dusk, letting their voices fill the air, and Katniss begins to sing, too. It's only four notes, but four notes that I will always remember. The mockingjays pick it up, harmonizing, and the music swells on the plain.

"Just like your father," I remark with a weak smile.

"That's Rue's song." There's a catch in her voice. "I think they remember it."

She closes her eyes, and I know she is remembering her little ally. _Thank you, Rue. You kept her alive. You helped her. I'm sorry that you couldn't make it this far._

And it stops. Gradually. Painfully. It sounds like each note is taken, thrown to the side, and each mockingjay is left with utter silence, without music. We leap to our feet, weapons in hand.

And Cato appears out of the woods. Staggering. Running. Fleeing. An arrow flies into him, hits his heart, but it bounces off. "He's got some kind of body armor!" Katniss shouts to me as he crashes towards us, past us. We turn back, away from him, and see at the same time what he is running from.

Wolves. But they aren't wolves at all. They are unnatural. They are creations of the Capitol. They are muttations.

I turn to run and see Katniss yards ahead of me. _Keep running! _I think. _If they catch me, it'll buy you time!_

As if she can hear me, she turns, fear and panic etched into her face as she shoots an arrow at a mutt near me. "Go, Katniss! Go!" I shout, pulling my leg and running as quickly as I can. She shoots up the Cornucopia, meeting Cato at the top. _Don't hurt her, don't hurt her, don't hurt her!_

I reach the base of the great golden horn, and I try to climb, but I have a knife in my hand and a lame leg. I scream as the wolves close in on me, sure to finish me off. "Climb!" shrieks Katniss. She launches an arrow at the wolf closest to me. I pull myself up on the burning metal, and Katniss yanks me up as soon as she can reach me.

Cato is doubled over, clutching his side, at the top of the Cornucopia. "Can they climb it?" he splutters, coughing.

"What?" Katniss barks at him. And I find it odd that we can communicate like this with our enemy, that the Capitol's effort to kill one of us has led us to team up, if only for a moment.

"He said, 'Can they climb it?'" I relay to her, staring back down at the mutts. They have grouped together, the different colors and textures of them blending into one dangerous pack that seems to me like it could leave no Victor of these Games at all. A light colored one with unsettlingly green eyes takes a running start and jumps forward onto the Cornucopia, landing too close to us for comfort, and Katniss lets out a chilling scream as she fumbles with her arrows. She shoots it, her arrow meeting its mark, and it skids to the ground. She shakes and gasps, sobbing without tears.

I take her arm. "Katniss?"

"It's her!" she shrieks, writhing away from me.

"Who?"

Her eyes rake over the crowd of the wolves, taking them all in and looking more and more terror-stricken as she looks over each one. "What is it, Katniss?" I yell, shaking her slightly, trying to bring her back to reality.

"It's them!" she forces out. "It's all of them. The others. Rue and Foxface and…all of the other tributes."

I stare down at them as it clicks into place. The light one with shocking green eyes that Katniss just killed-Glimmer. The small, dark one with a determined stare-Rue. The petite ginger-colored one-my kill. Foxface. She's right. The eyes of Foxface stare up at me. _You killed me,_ they say. _I'll kill all of you._ The eyes of all of them glare at me, sending shivers down my spine. "What did they do to them? You don't think…those could be their real eyes?"

She begins to reply, but she's cut off as they reassemble into two groups, leaping up at us. Agony shoots through me as a set of strong teeth grab me, and I let out a scream that does nothing to lessen the pain. "Kill it, Peeta! Kill it!" Katniss' voice comes from far away, and I realize that I'm still holding her arm tightly, keeping myself away from the ground. She pulls me up further onto the horn, away from the powerful grasp of the mutts. An arrow shoots through the heart of a wolf as we inch to the top, where Cato is still recovering. I'm biting back screams as my calf throbs from where the wolf snapped at me, and I suddenly find myself torn away from Katniss, yanked away to Cato. Blood flies through the air, and Cato roughly jerks me into the position that he wants me in.

My air supply is cut off suddenly as his arm is wrapped tightly around my neck. I gasp uselessly, my hands clawing at him, as I feel blood pouring from the wound. The world is slowly going black, and I'm trying so hard to stay conscious, to stay alive. I can make out Katniss aiming an arrow at Cato, and feel his body rumble with laughter around me. "Shoot me and he goes down with me."

_Do it! _I want to scream. _Let me die! Let _him _die! You'll make it back! I'll have kept you safe!_ But she keeps fading. I still can't breathe. The oxygen is slowly pushed from my system, and I wish I could tell her one last time what she means to me.

I can't. But I use the last of my energy to know what it will take to save us both, and, in the blood coating my hand, I lightly draw an _X_ on the back of Cato's hand. He notices it just after Katniss does, and the arm that had been squeezing away my life releases. I gasp and swing back into him, the world coming back into focus. Katniss lunges forward and grabs me, pulling me back as Cato tumbles over the edge of the horn.

Maybe it's because of my lack of oxygen. Or blood. I don't know. But everything registers one thing at a time after he falls.

He hits the ground.

The wind is knocked from him.

The muttations of my fellow tributes gnash their teeth and snap.

They run to him, prepared to kill him.

They tear at him.

He screams.

They are killing him.

Agony is a sound. It comes from him.

There is no cannon.

The agony continues.

My breath is coming back, and so are my tears. Katniss is holding me, and I hold her with one arm, the other stemming the steady flow of blood from my calf.

He must be fighting back.

But he is outnumbered.

He will never survive.

We hold each other for eternity. Forever has passed six times over before they drag him into the great horn after he attempted to go around to the other side and climb up again. Music plays from the sky, but there is no picture of the boy beneath us in the stars. He lives in complete and utter pain, his moans the soundtrack of these Games.

The world begins to go black again. I can feel the blood draining from my face, and it seems like it goes right out to my leg and out to the Cornucopia. I'm vaguely aware of Katniss removing her jacket, then her shirt, and putting her jacket on again. She shivers uncontrollably as she ties a tourniquet for me. "Don't go to sleep," she tells me desperately, shaking and fighting back the frightened sobs.

"Are you cold?" I don't wait for an answer. I unzip my jacket, and she pushes herself against me. The combined body heat and jacket warmth seem to warm her up a little bit, but this night can only get colder. And we have nothing to aid us. She shivers against me.

"Cato may win this thing yet," she chokes out.

"Don't you believe it," I whisper.

I have never experienced torture, but I think that it must be something like this. The ice of the air around us seems to suck the life from me, from Katniss. Cato's agony continues. He seems incapable of dying. But they keep killing him, keep forcing the anguish to sound. And I want to end it, because no one deserves this. I would bring this pain on no one.

"Why don't they just kill him?" Katniss asks me.

"You know why."

I hate them. I hate the Capitol with a rage that I have never felt before. They refuse to let a boy who has been through more than they can ever imagine just die. They refuse to end it for him. All for entertainment of the fortunate. All for the pain of the unlucky.

More than ever, I want out. I want nothing to do with these murderers. Taking part in their Games was not my choice to make, but it seems that by winning-or almost winning-I have supported them. I want the people of Panem to know that it goes against everything in me to fight to the death with other teenagers, and almost-if not completely-win it all.

The fatigue hits me every now and then, and I feel my head droop, hear Katniss scream my name, and I snap awake again. I fight to keep myself awake, prove to her that I won't leave her now, but exhaustion takes its toll on me. "Peeta! _Peeta!"_ She shrieks my name every time my eyes close, and I work to keep them open, huddling closer to her.

The night will never end. I know it. She knows it. I try to defy it, pointing out the moon to her, how it used to be farther over. "The night will end. We will go home soon." I repeat again and again, for her and for myself.

"The sun is rising," I breathe out painfully after several more centuries of torture.

We hear Cato's voice coming from beneath us in moans of defeat. "I think he's closer now. Katniss, can you shoot him?"

She agrees silently that taking his life would be kind. "My last arrow's in your tourniquet."

"Make it count," I say, unzipping my jacket so that she can retrieve it. She reties the tourniquet after removing the arrow, trying to keep it tight. I can feel the blood still draining out, little by little. I am falling. Slowly. Very slowly. But I'll fall into the darkness soon.

I hold onto her waist as she leans over the edge, aiming at who used to be our enemy. There is a soft _thwack_, and she leans back up, panting. "Did you get him?" I murmur.

The cannon sounds.

Finally.

We can go home.

"Then we won, Katniss."

"Hurray for us."

A hole opens in the middle of the plain, and the few wolves that are left run into it, and it closes around them again.

The hovercraft should be here. It should take Cato's remains away. There should be music, telling us that we have won.

But there is silence. Loud, painful silence that presses in on us.

**CLIFFHANGER! But not really, because I'm assuming that you've read the books. If you haven't, then a) I'm sorry if I've spoiled everything, and b) sorry that I left off here. *stage whisper* you should read the books! They're much better!**

**But, in any case, what did you think? There is this magical button that YOU, dear reader, can press and use to let me know your thoughts. It's right down underneath this text! So don't be shy! Thanks, lovelies!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I know I say this every time, but I **_**mean**_** it every time when I say THANK YOU! Like I said before, I didn't know I was going to go this far, but with the feedback I'm getting, I felt a lot better about going on. (: Also, to myname and jeffydohmer, I don't know if I trust myself to change the plot at all…but, jeffydohmer, I like your idea a lot! I'll see what I can work out…Thanks again everyone!**

"Hey!" I give a start as Katniss shouts, breaking the frightening silence that told us quite clearly that we weren't to go home yet. "What's going on?"

I look down at Cato, his body mangled and bloody, and fight the urge to be sick. "Maybe it's the body. Maybe we have to move away from it." As awful as it is to look at, I hope that we won't have to move. My leg, already injured from Cato so many days ago, has been ripped to shreds yet again thanks to the mutts. Why isn't the hovercraft here?

"Think you could make it to the lake?" Katniss asks anxiously.

"Think I better try," I reply, sliding myself slowly across the horn. She helps me inch down to the ground, and half-supports, half-drags me to the lake. I'm trying so hard not to cry out from the pain that it's difficult to focus on anything else. Getting to the lake takes too long, but once we get there, Katniss helps me into a sitting position, then takes water in her hands and gives it to me, then takes some for herself. The mockingjay sings its low, solemn note, and the hovercraft appears and takes Cato's body away. That means that the hovercraft will be here soon, won't it?

Silence. Again. No one is coming.

"What are they waiting for?" I croak. The wound on my leg has been opened, which isn't surprising considering that the tourniquet was as good as removed.

"I don't know," Katniss responds, a look of utter hopelessness on her face. She notices my leg and seems to come back to her senses, getting up and retrieving an arrow to retie the tourniquet.

Before she can return, though, we hear the voice of Claudius Templesmith boom through the arena. "Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."

It doesn't hit me immediately. Katniss turns and stares at me in horror, and then it sinks in.

They were never going to let us go home together. This has just provided the most entertainment that anyone in the Capitol could ever imagine. Two star-crossed lovers, destined to be separated. One of us will make it home. One will die here.

But I have said to myself so many times that I would give my life for the girl standing in front of me. Never once was it a lie.

"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," I say quietly, the pain in my voice evident. I get to my feet, trying hard not to topple again. I stumble forward, reaching for my knife, preparing to escape this pain, preparing to send Katniss home.

And I look up to see an arrow pointed at my heart.

By the time I've thrown my knife to the lake, Katniss' expression has shifted to one of utmost shame. Her bow and arrow fall to the ground, where she stares at them, stunned.

"No. Do it." _Kill me. Please. _I give back her weapons.

"I can't. I won't."

"Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato."

"Then you shoot me!" She's shaking. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!"

_Never._

"You know I can't," I say as calmly as possible. There are no words to tell her what that would do to me. I throw the bow and arrow to the ground. "Fine, I'll go first anyway." I tear the bandage off my leg. It won't take me long to bleed to death.

"No." She kneels down, still shaking as she tries to rewrap my bandage. "You can't kill yourself."

"Katniss. It's what I want."

"You're not leaving me here alone!" she hisses at me, looking close to tears.

I get painfully to my feet and pull her up with me. "Listen, we both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me." I take a deep breath. And spill. Everything I've ever thought about her, that I'd daydreamed about telling her, it all comes out. "Katniss, when Prim was reaped, and you volunteered…I-I thought I'd go crazy. You're a fighter, I knew you would try here in the Games, but there are so many people here who have trained for this, trained all their lives. So you can't imagine what it did to me to know that you would be in here, with all these killers." I shudder inwardly at the thought that I'm one, too. I try to brush it aside. "And then I was reaped, too. I was so scared, but…I was glad, too. Because this way, I couldn't lose you, not really. I would die before I let them hurt you. I promised myself-so many times-that I would get you home if it was the last thing I did, and it could have been. It will be. Because I love you, Katniss. You can't imagine. Those words…'I love you,' they're such an understatement. You're what I live for. You're what I'll die for.

"And think about me going home without you. I might as well die. I probably would, because there would be nothing left for me. Years and years of mentoring children that I could be sending to their deaths, years and years of icing a cake, or baking bread, because that's the only escape I get. Without you, I'm-I'm nothing, Katniss. You are the very best part of me. I've never been good enough for you, and I never will be. But somehow, I have you…and I'm not going to lose you.

"Let me go. Please. Let me die. Sooner instead of later, without you."

Her fingers jump to the pouch on her belt. Nightlock. Maybe she thinks that if she's quick enough, she can get away with it. I grab her wrist. "No, I won't let you." _Don't you understand?_

"Trust me." It's the steadiest thing that she's said in a long time. Her silver eyes search mine, determination clear in them._ I can't trust you…I can't lose you._

But I let go. I do trust her.

She fills my hand with berries, then her own. If both of us can't go home, then neither can. "On the count of three?"

I lean down and kiss her. One last time. "The count of three."

We stand back to back. I can feel her shoulder blades in my back, hunger having taken meat from her bones. Our fingers of one hand are intertwined, the others are holding our deaths.

"Hold them out. I want everyone to see," I say at the last second, my heart thumping in my chest.

She squeezes my hand. We count together. "One. Two. Three."

My hand flies to my mouth, tossing the berries inside.

Trumpets and the voice of Claudius Templesmith register in my head. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you-the tributes of District Twelve!"

District Twelve. I am going home. With Katniss. The berries fly from my mouth as I try to get rid of any juice. I pull Katniss to the water, and we wash our mouths out thoroughly. I throw my arms around her and she falls into me, panting and gasping.

"You didn't swallow any?" she makes sure.

I shake my head. "You?"

"Guess I'd be dead by now if I did."

"I guess I would be, too," I reply, but I can't even hear myself over the roar of the crowd. I guess they're playing the sounds from the Capitol, but I could be wrong; darkness has been threatening to take me for so long now, I don't know how much longer I can hold up. Maybe I've finally begun to hallucinate. Maybe I'm dreaming.

A ladder falls from a hovercraft that the darkness takes from me, and we step together on the same ladder. We begin to rise, but I'm falling. We reach the top and the blackness wins. The last thing I feel is Katniss's grip on my arm, holding me with her.

"_I think he's closer now. Katniss, can you shoot him?"_

_She agrees silently that taking his life would be kind. "My last arrow's in your tourniquet."_

"_Make it count," I say, unzipping my jacket so that she can retrieve it. She reties the tourniquet after removing the arrow, trying to keep it tight. I can feel the blood still draining out, little by little. I am falling. Slowly. Very slowly. But I'll fall into the darkness soon._

_I hold onto her waist as she leans over the edge, aiming at who used to be our enemy. She takes careful aim, her arrow poised to end his life, end his pain, when suddenly, I see it all flash before me._

_My leg gives way, and I stumble. I keep my hold around Katniss's waist, but I've knocked her off balance, and she flips over my arm. "_Katniss!_" I scream as she falls to the mutts, landing on top of one that squirms beneath her. "No! No! NO! KATNISS!" I'm sobbing, screaming, terrified. I want to throw myself down at them, I want to tell them to take me, hurt me, kill me, instead of her. She slips off the wolf's back and shoots her arrow at Cato's heart. The cannon booms. Before I have time to register the fact that a wolf has just grabbed Katniss by the arm in its mouth, is ripping, is killing her, the cannon booms again._

_She's gone._

"_NOOOOOO!" _

_I am finished. I am dead. The pain I feel is deeper than anything I have ever known before. This is true agony. I want to die. There is nothing left. My Katniss, my beautiful Katniss, is gone. I let her die. I swore over and over again that I would die to send her home. I broke the promise. I let them kill her. I begin to hurl myself over the edge of the Cornucopia, but the wolves are gone. In my agony, they have disappeared. Cato's mangled body is gone, too, but they have left Katniss. They have left her, just to torture me. Just to show me that they can. Just to show me that, now that I've won the Games, now that I've survived, I must endure an eternity of grief for the one person who made my life worth it._

_And they have killed her. I let them. She died because of all of us. All of them did. I outlived every child that set foot in this arena. I outlived the person that I cannot live without._

_Her body is so broken. Not necessarily stuck out at strange angles; just there. Just dead. Her eyes still open, pain etched clearly in them. The light taken from them by death. Her hair in knots around her face. I can't take my eyes away. I can't look away from the only thing left of Katniss Everdeen._

_I have won the Hunger Games. But to say that I feel defeated is an understatement._

The world slides into focus. All I can see is white. I'm lying in a bed that is unbelievably soft. Two memories swirl into my thoughts.

Berries. Suicide.

_Katniss. Dead._

I am so beyond terrified. Which is real? Which did my mind, traumatized by the horrors of the Games, make up?

**Sorry it's rather short. I thought this stopping place would be best. But hey, reviewers get a virtual hug! From me!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Wow. I am so so SO sorry! I should have updated before now…three times or so. I'll try to be more consistent, now that it's summer and I don't have exams or anything. Also, I started a Lily/James fic called "My Silver Lining" that is up, and it would just make my day if you might want to read that, too, and tell me what you think of it! I'm sorry this chapter is rather short—this was the best stopping place and I promise the next chapter will be a good bit longer. Aaaaand…I'll stop rambling now and let you read. (:**

I lie there, immobile, for what just might be forever. Katniss is either dead or she is here-wherever "here" is. The shock holds me completely still, as if the rigidness could help me come to my senses, realize the truth; I notice vaguely that there is a tube up my arm, and that restraints hold me down. It doesn't matter to me. I couldn't move if I wanted to.

I see out of my peripheral vision that the door slides open, though it's completely silent. I continue to stare at the ceiling. Nothing matters.

"Peeta?"

I feel the breath catch in my throat. It's a familiar voice, but it isn't Katniss. I don't look up.

The person walks over to me and presses a button on the table beside me; the restraints slide back into the bed, but I still don't move. She kneels beside the bed and brushes the hair out of my face. "Peeta, honey?"

I blink and turn my head to look at Portia. Before I know what I'm saying, I croak one word. "Katniss?"

"Is fine."

It seems backwards to me. The tears well up in my eyes and slide down my face as Portia helps me sit up; I'm shaking uncontrollably. Shouldn't I be happy? Shouldn't I be screaming for joy?

"Shhh…" Portia hugs me and rocks slowly back and forth. I feel like an old man looking back and experiencing a moment as a child again; I feel very young, but I have aged so much since setting foot in the arena.

My shoulders have stopped trembling before Portia says anything more, but once I have controlled myself, she takes my hand and looks into my eyes. "I need to tell you everything that has happened and everything that's going to happen. They knew that you would be shocked and disconcerted, and definitely traumatized, so I volunteered to be a familiar face, someone to…to help you through."

I nod. There isn't much to say. But I can't say how glad I am that Portia is the one to talk to me. There is something about her that I had noticed from the beginning; I can trust her.

"First of all, there's…there's something you should know. And it's going to take some getting used to, but you're here. You're alive, and that's what matters."

"What is it?"

"…You have a new leg."

That's another thing about Portia: as kind as she is, she never sees any sense in beating around the bush. Which I guess is just as well. I don't know how long I could have taken "You…well, there's an appendage…that was hurt. And it couldn't have been cured, so…well…"

I lean down and feel where my leg should be. It's utterly and completely the strangest sensation to pat something that is where my leg should be but that can't feel my hand at all. I look up again and see Portia eyeing me cautiously. I can get used to this. Katniss and I are miraculously both alive. I can handle a new leg.

Portia continues. "For the next week or so, you'll be going through physical therapy. Usually this time is used to nurse a victor back to health, but that will go along with your physical therapy, and they've already gone over you, taken away all the nasty souvenirs. They were able to do a lot during your surgery that would have taken longer in another situation."

I nod again. I hadn't even thought about how grimy and disgusting I had been and how clean I am now. "When can I see her?"

She smiles a little sadly and squeezes my hand. "I wish I could say now. But they're keeping her under strict medication, putting her back together, and they don't want you to see her until the ceremony." I must look bewildered because she quickly explains that they want everyone in the country to see our reunion.

"Not that I agree!" she adds hastily at the look on my face. "If it were up to me, I would take you to her now. But it isn't up to me, and I'll be helping you to get through. Physical therapy will start tomorrow,"-which means nothing to me, as time has lost all meaning by this point-"and I'll be there every step of the way. Let's just hope you don't get sick of me by the time this is all over." She winks.

"I'm more likely to be sick of myself than you, Portia. Definitely this not-leg."

"There's the Peeta I know," she says, smiling a little bit.

The next week feels, in one word, unnatural. I feel like a child, which I never would have guessed, seeing as I just won the Hunger Games. I eat simple foods: broth, bread, applesauce. They teach me to walk, as if I had never been able to. They show me how my leg works, how best to operate it. I will use a cane occasionally, but I will mostly need to be able to walk without one. Portia stays true to her word, remaining with me and providing help when everything else threatens to be too much. I know that she knows that all I really want is to see Katniss, but there isn't anything she can do.

After long enough that physical therapy has become routine, Portia comes once again into my room to bring breakfast. She sits on the edge of the bed as I eat the tiny portions of applesauce—as frustrating as the food is, I don't think my stomach could handle rich Capitol food. I realize quickly that she is glowing.

"What?" I ask. "What are we doing today?"

"Getting you ready for Katniss."

If I had two good legs, I would spring out of bed. "It's today? The ceremony's today?"

"Yes, yes it is. And we need to get you ready." She's beaming as I take my cane from the side of my bed, then gingerly stand and walk to the door, using the techniques that the Capitol doctors have been teaching me. "Lunius, Gideon, and Marthia can't wait to see you!" The patch in the wall slides open and I don't even have to ask her which way to go, because all three members of my prep team, Haymitch, and Effie have all gathered just outside my room, hugging me in turn. I know that Portia told me that I couldn't see Katniss until the ceremony, but I'm still disappointed as I pull back from Effie's teary hug and still see no Katniss.

I'm eventually pulled away by Portia and the prep team and taken down the hallway and to an elevator that takes us to what is easily recognizable as the lobby of the Training Center. The members of my prep team chatter excitedly in their Capitol accents, but Portia just smiles. I can tell she's about as stunned as I am that I made it through the physical therapy without going crazy—but it's going to take a lot of willpower to make it through the next eternity of prepping for the ceremony. We reach another elevator that takes us to the twelfth floor, and I can't help thinking of all the other tributes who took some of their last steps in the outside world here. Rue, who could have won; Foxface, whose name I'll never know; Cato, who lived his last hours in agony…

I shake myself a little bit to try to pull myself away from the Games, but it's difficult to forget when I'm using a cane and walking on a contraption instead of a leg. It's a relief to sit down once more in my room and prepare to zone out again as my prep team adds finishing touches to my appearance.

Portia disappears to retrieve what I'll be wearing while the rest of the prep team sets to work. Gideon, decked out in neon orange down to the eyelashes, snips bits of hair away in an effort to even it out, and then combs and styles it, adding just enough styling liquid—I can't determine if it's gel or something that will turn my hair hard as a rock—to it that it stays stationary. Lunius and Marthia, meanwhile, admire my lack of scars and scratches (which, I suppose, were taken care of during leg surgery) and smooth out any minor calluses that they can find, so that my skin has been rendered completely flawless. All the while, they chatter and giggle, but I can barely think straight, much less understand them. Twenty-two other people gave their lives so that I could be here now.

Portia returns with several clothes-filled hangers as well as a pair of sturdy-looking boots. I pull on the yellow shirt and button it, then, with some help from Portia, the long black pants, and finally lace up the black boots. I turn to face my reflection in the mirror.

This could easily be a Peeta Mellark walking into the Hunger Games after just being prepared by the Capitol. I am astonished to know that I have just won, that I have outlived so many. My skin is smooth and perfect, and Gideon has pulled off an effect with my hair that makes me look strong and older. The shirt I'm wearing seems to shimmer with every move I make; it's like I'm wearing soft, relaxing light.

I'm given a light lunch to eat—chicken, green beans, and a muffin, all in small servings—and then taken to the elevator to the level where all the tributes were trained. Traditionally, victors of the Hunger Games rise from beneath the stage with their support team. The specific order has always made all the difference in the world—the prep team, escort, stylist, mentor and finally, victor, must all be in that order. Fortunately, Katniss and I have managed to mess that up, but I'm not sure how it's to be rearranged just yet. I'm situated on a metal plate that will transport me up to the stage, and reminded painfully of the start of the Games. In the dim light, I can see a wall to my left; I assume Katniss is behind it, and my heart skips a beat. My prep team scurries away and Portia kisses me on the cheek, whispering, "Good luck!" then bustles away, too.

I'm surprised that I'm not shaking from the nerves. I am about to go up and speak in front of the entire country, and no one will fail to hear what I say. But the more I think about it, the more it comes down to it; I'm only speaking for Katniss. If I think in the mindset that only she can hear me, maybe I won't be so queasy.

Katniss. I will be speaking for her today. The girl who didn't know my name several weeks ago. The girl who I've loved for as long as I can remember. Most importantly, the girl I will marry, and spend the rest of my life with. And suddenly I'm even more nervous, nervous to see her and know that I'm in the presence of perfection—walking perfection who finally sees me and knows who I am and who maybe even loves me.

The time passes in a way that seems impossible to me—maybe it's an hour, maybe it's a second, maybe a century—and soon I hear the anthem playing, Caesar Flickerman speaking, the crowd roaring. I know that both my prep team are being presented, all, no doubt, taking their bows and beaming around. I hear Effie introduced; she is surely glowing, her pink hair probably threatening to topple off. Portia and Cinna are given a spectacular applause, which is no surprise, considering the miracles they've performed on the two tributes from District Twelve, where our only notable trade is coal. Haymitch's name is called, and his applause goes on for what must be a full five minutes.

The seconds tick nearer. My plate begins to rise…I right myself on it to keep from toppling over, clutching at my sleek cane…

For a moment I think I've gone blind. The lights are ultimately like another small sun.

It then occurs to me that perhaps I've also gone deaf. The roar from the audience drives almost all noise from my ears.

And then I turn. And I smile, wider than I ever thought I could.

How could I ever be blind? How could I ever think I've lost my sight when a beautiful girl, my beautiful Katniss, runs toward me, beaming and looking on the verge of emotional tears? I don't know how I was just nervous about seeing her—this is, after all, just Katniss.

She throws herself onto me, and I almost fall over, but I right myself. I hold her, kissing her, and all the sound shuts out. I lose any thought of where I am, of what's going on, and just know that we're here together.

There's a tap on my shoulder, but I shove whoever it is away. I am with Katniss. They can't pull me away.

**Now, if you've read this chapter, you have an opinion on it. Maybe you liked it, maybe you thought it was horrible, maybe I took Peeta way too far out of character. I'm not really sure, but I would absolutely LOVE to know what you thought. And it isn't too hard to let me know! There is this amazing button that lets you tell me whatever you want to about my story. Go ahead, click it! It's right…**

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**HERE!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm a very bad updater. I know. I'm sorry. :/ I'm trying to get better! Really, I am! Thank you so much, as always, for the lovely feedback! (:**

I am alive. Katniss is alive. It wasn't a dream. We're locked together, and I'm not letting go. Not for a long time.

We're eventually separated by Haymitch and pushed slightly toward the victor's chair—or what should be the victor's chair. It's been replaced by a small red velvet couch, which Katniss and I sit on. She curls up, tucking her feet to her side after jerking off her shoes and leaning against me. I put my arm around her automatically, pulling her in close, determined to never let go. I notice now that she's wearing a dress made of the same material as my shirt, and that Cinna has made her look much younger, which is especially remarkable considering that she came out of the Games alive.

Caesar gets the crowd going with a few of his good-natured jokes, and then we get ready for the real show to begin. As the lights dim, I think about how odd it is that this is really a show, really entertainment for some people. How much did the many people crowded here pay so that they could see the two victors live? It finally hits me that I'm going to sit here and watch all of these deaths happen all over again, relive three hours of the worst time in my life. But I'm not alone, not like all the other victors before us. The others, the ones who sat and watched and either felt the victory coursing through them, or the remorse. I'm here holding onto another survivor, feeling the pain but at least feeling it with someone else.

The footage does not tell a story of victory. It doesn't show the fierce determination in us, the need to win. It shows Katniss and me as the star-crossed lovers of District 12, destined to be apart from the very beginning. I am shown walking up after being reaped to join her on the District 12 stage, holding her hand as we ride into the Capitol in a blaze of flames, telling the world that I love her as I speak to Caesar Flickerman. I see myself take the risks all over again to protect her, I see her shout my name—and it gives me chills—when she realizes that two could win. I flash from scene to scene, feeling ripples up my spine. I feel like I'm back there. I feel like I'll never come out. I won't die there, I'll just stay. Stay forever. Living in terror.

I watch us as we're lifted into the hovercraft, and the show ends with Katniss pounding desperately on the glass doors behind which I assume I'm being worked on. I want to make some motion to her, something to tell her what that means to me. But I'm in shock. I can't even make myself give her a tiny hug with the arm wrapped around her.

The anthem plays and I feel myself standing, even if I'm not aware of choosing to. President Snow comes forward with a single crown, given to him before by a little girl with the crown on a cushion, and twists it, breaking it into halves. One is placed on my brow, and Snow looks into my eyes. He seems to be congratulating me, but something is off. He moves to Katniss to place her half on her head, and his eyes linger longer on hers.

Suddenly we're nearly blinded with the lights again, and I find us beaming at the crowds—the crowds who clap because twenty-two others died while we survived—and waving like we're proud, like we're thrilled that we survived when no one else did. Eventually Caesar Flickerman bellows out to them to tune in tomorrow for the final interviews, as if they wouldn't.

Naturally, we eat very little at the Victory Banquet that we find ourselves in next. Everyone is determined to shake the hands of the star-crossed lovers who made it out alive. Every time that I think that I just can't stand it, I need to get out, I need to stop talking to these strangers who speak to me as if I'm a long-time friend, I feel Katniss's hand in mine, and I can smile and beam and laugh for them.

It's early morning when we eventually make it back to the Training Center to sleep. I haven't really talked to Katniss since we were really in the Games, and I'm looking forward to just sitting down and talking. Before I know it, though, I'm following Portia down the hall, confused as to how Haymitch convinced her to take me away from Katniss.

"Why couldn't I talk to her?"

"Haymitch is the boss. Besides, sweetie, we won't have to fit you for your clothes tomorrow, we can just do it now."

Why she wants to fit me for my last interview at somewhere near four in the morning is beyond me, but I go along with her. She hands me a pair of clean white pants, a deep red collared shirt, and a shiny white skinny tie to wear. My new not-leg is difficult to manage, but I suppose that with time I'll get used to it.

"Let's see," she murmurs to herself, circling me. "I think we'll roll those sleeves up just a few…yes, and then take down a few buttons, more casual…Okay, my friend! Just change back out of those clothes and you're fine to go to bed now."

"Can I go talk to Katniss? Is she already asleep?"

"You both need your rest, dear. You'll be able to talk to her later. You'll be on air at two, go on to sleep!"

I know that Portia would let me have forever with Katniss if I asked her, so I trust her and go on to my room. I lie down, thinking about how long ago this morning seemed. Dark covers me and soon I'm out.

"_Peeta, dear! Wake up, wake up! We have another big, big, big day ahead of us!_" Effie trills from outside my door. I blink sleepily a few times. Effie Trinket's voice is not the best way to start my day.

I eat a small bowl of oatmeal and some mild fruit for breakfast before I'm whisked away by the prep team. They chatter around me excitedly, trying to make me look my best. With the spray of a can of hair product, my hair has been transformed from looking like I just woke up to a windswept look. I don the clothes that I tried on last night and then, with my cane making an awful metallic _clunk_ beside me every other step, I follow Portia to the interview room, just down the hallway. We enter and I see Katniss, dressed in a white dress and pink shoes, making small talk with Caesar. I grab her arm and pull her to the side.

"I hardly get to see you. Haymitch seems bent on keeping us apart."

"Yes, he's gotten very responsible lately," she replies vaguely. I want to raise my eyebrows. So now it's responsible to keep the victors away from each other?

"Well, there's just this and we go home. Then he can't watch us all the time."

She gives me an odd little smile, but I barely have time to register it because it's time for the interview. We sit again on the loveseat, side-by-side, no lovey-dovey-ness, but then Caesar smiles good-naturedly at Katniss and says, "Oh, go ahead and curl up next to him if you want. It looked very sweet." I grin at him as she tucks her feet under her again, and my arm goes around her before I pull her in close.

I hardly pay attention to the answers I'm giving until we arrive to the topic that I know the nation is anxious to hear about. After joking and laughing with Caesar for awhile, Katniss interjecting every now and then, he gives me a meaningful look and says, "Well, Peeta, we know, from our days in the cave, that it was love at first sight for you at what, age five?"

"From the moment I laid eyes on her," I tell him honestly.

"But, Katniss, what a ride for you. I think the real excitement for the audience was watching you fall for him. When did you realize you were in love with him?"

"Oh," Katniss gives a little fake laugh. "That's a hard one…" I look at her. I'd like to know this, too.

"Well, I know when it hit me. The night you shouted out his name from that tree." I wish I'd heard that.

She nods in agreement, smiling. "Yes, I guess that was it. I mean, until that point, I just tried not to think about what my feelings might be, honestly, because it was so confusing and it only made things worse if I actually cared about him. But then, in the tree, everything changed."

"Why do you think that was?" Caesar prompts.

"Maybe…because for the first time…there was a chance I could keep him."

Something in me turns to liquid. I press my forehead gently into her temple. I almost shake. "So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?"

She turns to me and gives me a subtle, Katniss-esque smile. "Put you somewhere you can't get hurt."

I lean in to her, and kiss her gently. Everyone sighs in the room. I can almost hear the sighs around the nation. I don't take any notice.

I pull away and just look at her for a minute, and it takes me awhile to start talking to Caesar again. Naturally, he has begun to discuss when we _did_ get hurt in the Games, which is an odd switch from talking about being in love. He asks, after awhile, how my new leg is doing.

"New leg?" Katniss looks genuinely bemused and reaches over to pull up the bottom of my pants. "Oh, no."

"No one told you?" Caesar asks gently. She shakes her head, looking alarmed.

"I haven't had the chance." I resist the urge to eye Haymitch.

"It's my fault," she says immediately, looking stunned. "Because I used that tourniquet."

"Yes, it's your fault I'm alive."

"He's right," says Caesar. "He'd have bled to death for sure without it."

Katniss doesn't look reassured at all; on the contrary, she buries her face in my shoulder. I stroke her hair, willing to let her stay there, but Caesar tries to coax her back out, and eventually succeeds after a few minutes. He doesn't ask her anything directly after that for awhile, so I answer him and keep my arm firmly around her.

Eventually, though, he can't avoid her. "Katniss, I know you've just had a shock, but I've got to ask. The moment you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind, hm?"

There is silence. It's full of meaning that I can't distinguish, but I sit and wait. I want to know that she'll see just as much as the rest of the nation does. When she speaks, it comes out in a hush. "I don't know, I just…couldn't bear the thought of…being without him."

I'm surprised that I don't just melt there. Why isn't there a puddle of Peeta on the loveseat next to Katniss?

"Peeta? Anything to add?"

"No," I tell him. "I think that goes for both of us."

He turns to the camera. "Well, my friends, as much as I wouldn't like it to, that's going to have to conclude our final interviews. Don't worry, you'll be seeing Katniss and Peeta in your districts in a matter of months!" He turns to us. "It's been a pleasure!"

The cameras go off and we all stand up to stretch and hug everyone else, and there's laughter echoing around the small room. I go back to my room to collect anything I might have left, and then we're driven to the train station in a car with windows so dark that I can't see the sun outside. We slip in a quick goodbye to Portia and Cinna, but we aren't given much time. We'll see them soon on the Victory Tour.

The train zips through country sides, and we eat a stupendous dinner with Haymitch and Effie, then sit down to watch the interview we just gave. Eventually Katniss excuses herself to her to change clothes, and she returns looking like home, her hair in a braid and wearing plain, comfortable-looking clothes. When I put my arm around her again she stiffens almost unnoticeably. I decide that I must have imagined it.

The train makes a stop for fuel, and Katniss and I drift outside for fresh air. To my relief, no one accompanies us. This is the first time we've been alone since the Games. We walk along the tracks, her hand in mine, and feel the silence in between us. I bend down at one point to gather her some wildflowers, and she smiles at me, but something is off. I wonder if they remind her of the Games.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replies, but I can tell there's something.

We keep walking until the train is behind us, and the silence stays. Suddenly Haymitch appears out of nowhere and puts a hand on her back. "Great job, you two," he says under his breath. "Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay." He turns back to the train. I can feel confusion painted on my face. I look at Katniss.

"What's he mean?"

"It's the Capitol. They didn't like our stunt with the berries," she tells me.

_Stunt?_ "What? What are you talking about?"

"It seemed too rebellious." Her voice sounds like she is giving me a confession. She won't meet my eyes. "So, Haymitch has been coaching me the last few days. So I didn't make it worse."

"Coaching you? But not me," I say. How do you coach someone on something like this?

"He knew you were smart enough to get it right," she responds weakly.

"I didn't know there was anything to get right." But it begins to dawn on me. How Katniss never knew me before the Games. How she reacted when I told the world I loved her. How suddenly, she cared, and nursed me back to health. Suddenly. As if it took a cue. "So, what you're saying is, these last few days and then I guess…back in the arena…that was just some strategy you two worked out."

"No," she says quickly, looking in my eyes, finally. "I mean, I couldn't even talk to him in the arena, could I?"

_You didn't have to._ "But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn't you?" She drops her eyes and bites her lip. She says nothing. The liquid in me from the interview has hardened to a heavy rock in my chest. "Katniss?" I let her hand fall. How long has she waited for me to drop her hand? "It was all for the Games. How you acted." The words are torn from me. I need to hear them denied. I need her to grab my hand again.

"Not all of it."

"Then how much?" I ask, a lump forming in my throat. "No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?"

"I don't know." I feel like she has just pierced me. I wish she had. "The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get." I let it unfold in my brain. I know who, besides me, makes her confused. I know who else loves her. But after all this, I had thought that she loved me, too.

"Well, let me know when you work it out." I can't hide the pain. I turn away, and let it overtake me. After all of this time, I really believed it?

I should have known that I was never good enough for Katniss Everdeen.


End file.
